the most of freedom and of pleasure
by Real.Smile
Summary: After the war, there were two options for the Death Eaters: be captured and taken to Azkaban or run. Theodore Nott chose the latter, even if it does mean living with Muggles. Theodore Nott/OC.
1. Chapter 1

This place was similar to the last one, and the one before that and the one before that. Dark with damp walls with the faintest scent of mildew in the air. As his eyes adjusted to the single strand of moonlight trickling into the small window, he could see that there was something in the far corner of the room. He moved towards it, a rat scurrying out of his path as he did, and upon closer inspection saw that it was a mattress. From the looks of the mattress, it looked to be just as damp as the walls. In the pale moonlight, he could see that the mattress was just a shell of what it had once been, torn by the claws on the rat's feet and its filling scattered around the floor.

This is what his life had come to. Moving from cellar to cellar, each more disgusting than the one prior to it, as if he were nothing more than a street urchin.

His blue eyes closed, letting the anger, the irritation, that was bubbling in his chest simmer down into a reluctant acceptance.

He let out an exhale through his nose and slowly made his way to what used to be the mattress. Reluctantly, he lowered himself down onto it, stuffing puffing from the marks on it as his weight settled and proving his initial thought if it being damp correct. From there, he removed the bag he'd been carrying on his shoulder and placed it next to him. With careful hands, he removed a well-embroidered handkerchief from a pocket and unraveled it.

Inside lay two pieces of wood, elm, with a frayed dried red and tinted center, dragonheart string. Each half of the wood was five inches, ten total. These were the remains of his wand.

Icy blue eyes stared at the pieces as if willing them to come together again. To form one whole object so that he too could be whole. However, the pieces remained separated, mocking him, making sure that he knew and remembered. He no longer had magic.

He wrapped the wand back in the handkerchief and stowed it back into the bag. A look of disgust crossed his face as he started to lower his back onto the damp mattress, resting his head on his bag.

Two months. Two months since the Dark Lord, Lord Voldemort, the most powerful dark wizard of his time, was killed by Harry Potter, a boy of seventeen. Theodore could still hear the Dark Lord's body hitting the marble floor when he thought about it, and he thought about it often. That sound, the thud of the darkest wizard for centuries hitting the ground, was what he thought would free him from the life he had taken in the shadows.

However, he had been too optimistic.

One month to the day, June 2nd, the Ministry started a search for all persons affiliated with Lord Voldemort with a keen emphasis on collecting all Death Eaters, who were a potential threat to the way of life with or without Lord Voldemort. All high-class Aurors were deployed into the community, taking men and women from their homes to Azkaban prison. The captured Death Eaters stood trial for their actions. Few took full responsibility for their crime and accepted the punishment willingly, others stayed loyal to their Lord, thinking of themselves as heroes for cleansing the wizarding world of its impurities. Then there was the majority, the people that accepted that they had done wrong, but did not want to be punished for their actions, those that placed the blame on the charisma of the Dark Lord and said they remained for the safety of their families.

Sentences varied from person to person. Those that were closest to the Dark Lord, the ones in his innermost circle, the ones with the Mark, received a life sentence in Azkaban. The sentences decreased with the individual's actual involvement with Lord Voldemort.

However, one punishment for those that bore the Dark Mark and those known to be Death Eaters remained the same across the board.

 _ **Magical Decree from the Minister of Magic:**_

 _Wands of known Death Eaters, especially ones who bear the Dark Mark, are to be taken and broken. Persons that fall into this category are not to be issued another wand without given consent from the Minister of Magic himself._

A chill ran down his spine and he wasn't quite sure if he could blame it on the chilled damp air or his line of thought.

Azkaban was bad enough. However, going and doing time and then not being able to do magic again? The thought was completely unbearable.

June 14th. That was the day he'd done it. The day that he had taken his wand, ten inches of elm, and snapped it in half. He'd left home the following day.

He'd heard a rumor that if you went far enough away from London that they would stop looking for you. That you were safe from the time they would give you to serve.

Twenty-three days, he'd been on the run. Getting out of London is what took the most time, sticking to the shadows and moving at night, staying inside during the day living among, he shuttered and this time he knew that it was due to his train of thought, _muggles._

Muggles.

He was going to have to _adjust_ to them. After all, he had given up magic. He couldn't return to where he'd come from. On top of that, the place he was going, the place he was _running_ to, was a muggle town. A town on the water, he'd always been fond of the water, Blackpool.

One more day.

One more day and he would be in a place where he felt the Ministry would not find him. One more day and he wouldn't have to break into cellars to sleep. He would have a house, one without damp walls and the stench of mildew. Not as grandiose as he was used to, no house elves to cook for him or clean his messes, but a far cry better than this place.

He let that thought ease him into an uncomfortable sleep.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello there! This is my lastest fanfiction. This idea came to me in a dream, believe it or not. I woke up and I figured that it was worth a shot, something different on my end for a lot of reasons. One, I've never written from a male's viewpoint before, and it's an adjustment to me for sure. Two, I don't think I've ever really written something like this. Doing this chapter was a lot of fun for me. So if you liked it, or you're curious about it, leave me a review and let me know.

 **~ Nikki**


	2. Chapter 2

Cold.

The water in the lake that he splashed on his face was cold. Cold and dirty. As he opened his eyes, he could see the dirt floating on the surface of the murky water and shadows of the fish swimming just beneath it. Frowning, he dried his face on the tail of his coat as he stood. Across the road was a bus stop. A simple white sign with a red circle and a horizontal line cutting through the center, with a park bench next to it. He felt so unclean. If he'd had his wand, his magic, he could wash up, clean himself after spending the night in a cellar with a family of rats. He'd changed from the damp clothes he'd woken up in. Now he wore a simple black shirt with a coat of the same color.

Turning his eyes down to his wrist he glanced at the golden watch there that read _6:15_. Upon looking up, a bright light broke over the horizon. Squinting his eyes, he saw that the single light was a pair of lights, headlights to be exact. This must be it, the 6:30 bus leaving Charnock Richard. He watched as the lights came closer, becoming smaller and less bright as they approached. His hand slipped into his pocket, pulling out a wad of _muggle_ paper money. He never thought that the _Muggle Studies_ course that he'd been forced into taking in his fifth year due to lack of space in elective courses would prove to be useful. Which was why he hadn't paid much if any attention at all during the class. He looked at the colored money, trying to remember how this worked.

The bus pulled to a stop in front of him and he approached it holding five pounds in his hand. "'Morning," the driver said, though the open door.

"This the bus to Preston?" Theodore questioned. The bus driver nodded and Theodore handed him the bill. The driver handed him the change as he got on the bus. All the seats were empty, leaving the wizard with his choice of seats. He chose a seat in the back, away from the _muggle_ driver. At exactly, 6:30 the bus pulled away from the stop.

Blue eyes scanned the scenery. All the houses in perfect rows. All the white homes with their grey roofs, dreary. A woman in a pink gown, maybe in her thirties, appeared in her front yard, purple curlers in her short hair and fuzzy slippers on her feet. He averted his gaze, _Muggles. So, unkempt._

The bus ride to Preston was short and smooth. It made no other stops on the way, so the only muggle that he had to share his space with was the driver. He'd gotten off the bus in a hurried manner, head down, without so much as uttering a thank you to the driver.

Theodore Nott now stood across the street from a train station in Preston. Preston, the last stop between him and Blackpool. Sure, he was far enough away from London that he could have relaxed, however, every muscle in his was taunt as he walked to the ticket counter, icy eyes scanning every inch of the area around him, looking for something suspicious. Anything out of the ordinary.

"Watch out!"

A small hand reached out and grabbed the fabric of his coat, pulling him backward and out of the road. A person to a two-wheeled objected zoomed by in the space that he previously been occupying. Stumbling backward, he looked over his shoulder. Bright green eyes and freckles playing across the bridge of a small nose. His eyes then fell to his coat, where the hand had grabbed him, and it remained. Slender fingers wrapped around the sleeve of his coat.

Theodore pulled away from the slender-fingered grasp, the _muggle_ grasp. Small feet took a step back as the slender hands came together. "You should look for bikers before you cross the street, yeah?" The voice was kind. Theodore looked at the owner. A copper-haired girl. The bright eyes and freckled nose belonged to her. "You alright, mate?"

Mate? He could feel the repulsion bubbling in his veins. A _muggle_. "I'm fine," he told her before he started to walk out across the street again, looking more carefully this time.

"You're welcome," her voice shouted out across the street.

Thank her? A _muggle_? He scoffed at her as he continued to move away from her, putting distance between them.

* * *

Being on a train reminded him of the ride to Hogwarts. Watching the scenery rush by in a blur of greens and browns. However, he couldn't quite enjoy it as he usually would. Here he was a sitting duck. Without his magic, he was defenseless against any attack from the Aurors. He was helpless. Something that he had never been until recently, the past month to be exact. He'd always had magic around him. Even when he was young, his parents had their magic to protect him, help him. Then he got his own wand, ten inches of elm, to protect himself. He'd never been truly helpless.

His jaw was taut, icy eyes scanning the car of the train. Across from him sat a mother and her child. The child, a boy, was sitting on his mother's lap, small hands pressed against the glass. From his place, he could see that the child's hands were covered in something dark, chocolate. His little fingers were smearing chocolate across the window as he pointed to things outside of it. _Disgusting._ However, the dirty child and his mother posed no threat to him. In front of him was a man dressed in a business suit reading the paper with his ankle crossed over his knee. Purple and grey argyle socks peeked from under his pants leg. No threat to him.

Relaxing ever-so-slightly, he pressed his back into the seat. It was then that he saw it, from the corner of his eye. A dark black cloak. He sat up suddenly, his hand reflexively reaching into his pocket to take hold of his wand, only to feel empty space where his wand should have been.

The aurors.

They'd found him.

Heart pounding, his blue eyes panned across the train car, trying to find an exit. Finding nothing, other than jumping from the car, he cast another glance in the direction of the black cloak. The black cloak that was accompanied by copper-toned hair. Copper hair? He turned more in his seat as he did, the copper-haired person turned as well, green eyes falling on him.

The _muggle_ girl from before.

It seemed that she recognized him as well. Her thin eyebrows knitted together briefly, but then the realization of who he was settled into her features. Before she could do anything, he turned away from her.

He'd thought that she was an Auror. The _muggle_. He laughed at himself.

* * *

Blackpool was bustling.

He'd been pushed backward as soon as he stepped out of the train station by yet another biker, as the _muggle_ girl had said. He scowled as he watched the _muggle_ bike down the road. He would have to get used to these bikes. They seemed to just appear out of nowhere, he was sure that he had looked that way just before stepping into the street.

Theodore took another step into the road, more carefully this time, and pulled a piece of parchment from the pocket of his pants. In his own perfect handwriting was an address: _119 Highfield Rd, Blackpool FY4 2JE, UK._ Clenching his fist around the parchment, he looked down the street, both ways, trying to decide which way to go, desperately missing the _Point Me_ spell.

"Lost, son?"

His hand tightened around the paper again, turning to see who was speaking to him. An older _muggle_ woman, gray-haired with wrinkles at the corners of her brown eyes. A smile was on her lips and he tried his best to hide the frown the came to his lips. "No."

She nodded before starting off towards the east. The wizard watched her as she walked with her satchel over her shoulder towards the houses. The residential area. He nodded to himself, if she was going home, then he needed to go the other way. With his own bag on his shoulder, he started off towards the west.

As he walked, the area became less residential and more business oriented, just as he'd expected. His feet carried him down the sidewalk, eyes constantly on the move; partly in search of the dark cloaked Aurors and partly in search of the address on the parchment. The _muggles_ moved around him, groups parting as he moved down the center of the sidewalk. He didn't bother to move out of their way. He was a wizard, after all, superior to them. Even if he was living among them. He would always be of magical descent. Better than them.

He stopped in front of a building, the one that held the address on the paper. Theodore stood outside of the door, looking through the glass at the woman inside at the desk. She was dressed in a white button-down and a black skirt as she leaned on the corner of the desk holding something to her ear and speaking into it. Theodore once again thought back to his _Muggle Studies_ class and once again wished he'd paid more attention; then again, he never thought he'd be in this situation. A television? Is that what they were called? The things that the _muggles_ held to their heads and talk into, those were televisions, no?

"Can we help you?" the woman in the white shirt asked. She'd opened the door and was looking at him with a curious expression on her face.

"I need a house," he told her, not bothering to greet the woman.

"Oh, well you're in the right place."

"Today," he continued as if she had not spoken. The pleasant look on her face faltered. "That's not a problem, is it?" he asked. "I can pay in full cash."

"Oh, well, come in." She held the door open and he stepped into the office. "What are you looking for?"

"Detached home, three bedrooms, near the water."

"Price range, sir?"

"Not a factor."

The woman looked at him again, an unreadable expression on her face. "Okay. I have a few things that I can show you, Mr.?"

"Nott."

After he'd said it he immediately regretted it. He should have given her a fake name, he could have started a new life here with a new name. He could have left his old life behind. The wizarding world would have a harder him finding him with a different name. However, he couldn't. He was unable to completely give up his old life. He'd removed himself from magic and his name was all he had. So he kept it; his last tie to his world, his home.

"Well, Mr. Nott. I can take you to see four or five properties."

* * *

The first three houses she showed him. Theodore knew were all wrong upon driving up to them. They were the wrong color or the exterior wasn't visually appealing. The fourth house she showed him was subpar on the outside. However, upon taking one step in the door he grew disgusted at the small size of the rooms, the poor flow, and the atrocious wallpaper that covered every wall that he was able to see. He'd started back to her vehicle, her car as he'd remembered, before she even walked into the door.

The last house, however, was more what he had in mind. A two-story, detached home, with a red brick exterior. A very symmetrical home, the door in the center of the square home with two windows flanking each side. On the second story, there was a large arcing window, centered over the front door. A slight breeze brought the scent of the ocean to his nose; finally, a place close to the water.

"We're looking at a three bedroom, two bath detached home. It's about," she looked down at the folder in her arms, "three, three point five kilometers from the ocean." The woman, she'd told him her name and he just couldn't be bothered to remember it, took the key from the keyring and slipped it into the lock. "Hardwood entry, leads to the living area also with the hardwood."

They continued down the entry way and into the lounge. A large spacious area. To the left was a staircase, leading to the upstairs. "You can fit three sofas here and you can put a large telly in that alcove there." Telly? That was the thing with the moving pictures what _muggles_ spent hours watching. The thing that they held to their heads, telephones. "To the right is a bar area, great for entraining. At the front of the house are two of the bedrooms. Upstairs," she said as they walked. "we have the office area and the bedroom with the en-suite bathroom, it's also the one with the beautiful arching window. There's also the unique feature of this balcony that wraps around the back of the house from bedroom to office."

After walking into each of the spaces upstairs, Theodore approached the woman standing in the landing. The rooms were large enough, as was the house. However, it wasn't too big. It wasn't something that would draw unnecessary attention to him, but it was spacious enough to suit his lifestyle. "I'll take it."

"Oh? Wonderful."

* * *

 **A/N:** Wow, so I was completely surprised by the reaction that this story got as far as favorites and follows. I'm glad that people are interested in the plot! I'll admit that the first few chapters are a bit slow, it's mostly setting up the plot, so bear with me on that. The next chapter should be more fun. I'm actually really enjoying writing this story; and taking a turn at how I think Theodore Nott would be, as well as taking a shot at something a little AU and different, so I hope you're enjoying it. Leave me a review and let me know what you think!

 **~ Nikki**


	3. Chapter 3

_Carter's Furniture._

The sign above the door was written in a fancy, curling script. This was the name of the furniture store that the woman, the _muggle_ woman _,_ had given him after selling him the house two days prior. Through the glass, he watched as a man, burly with a receding hairline, moved around the store. As he moved, he adjusted the chairs and the lampshades. His eyes connected with Theodore's and he gestured for him to come into the store.

Reluctantly, he did.

"Welcome, mate." There it was again, a _muggle_ calling him 'mate'. He scowled, not bothering to hide it from the man with the receding hairline. "I'm John Carter," he introduced What can I do you for?" The man didn't even seem to notice that he was scowling so deeply. _Ignorant creatures,_ Theodore thought.

"Furniture," Theodore stated as if it were the most obvious thing. "I need furniture for my house."

"New here, eh?" the man questioned. "Where are you from?"

"Bristol," Theodore lied easily.

"Welcome to Blackpool then. So, what style are we looking at today?"

Theodore looked around the shop. There were countless items with frills and fringes. Lace fabric on the pillows and tassels hanging off the corners. Things with odd patterns on them. He was sure that he wasn't going to find anything here. Not without having to manually search through the shop in its entirety. It was then that he spotted something in the far corner a sleek leather armchair. "Things like that," the wizard said pointing to the chair.

"Sleek and modern," the man said bringing his thumb to his chin. "Oi, Racheal," he called over his shoulder, somewhere towards the back of the store. A woman appeared from behind the register. Slender, tall for a woman, and dark haired with dark eyes. "That new stuff, the modern styles, show that to him?"

"'Course."

The man placed his hand on Theo's shoulder heavily. His icy eyes cut towards the man, _the muggle_ , with his hand on his shoulder. How dare he! How dare he invade his personal space that way and to touch him. The wizard cringed at the touch as the man tighten his grasp on his shoulder and herded him towards the woman. "This is my daughter, Rach; she'll take good care of you."

"Right," Theodore muttered pulling away from the _muggle_.

"So you're looking for sleek-"

The woman's voice trailed off as her dark eyes settled on him. A chill ran through his body. He was familiar with the expression on her pale face. Pupils dilating and her jaw a little slack, looking as if there was something that she wanted to say that she couldn't quite get out. _Disgusting._ He said to himself. That she, _a muggle,_ would be attracted to him. He was utterly repulsed by the whole idea. He could feel her unblinking gaze on him. He brought his cold eyes up to her, startling her based on her reaction of looking down and blushing furiously.

"I have two bedrooms, guest rooms, and a master room, an office, and a lounge area. Minimal furniture, all sleek," he told her through gritted teeth. He'd thought very strongly about leaving the shop. However, he was in desperate need of furniture. He'd spent the past two nights sleeping on the floor in the bedroom with his head perched on his bag, covered by his coat. He wanted to be sure that the Aurors had not followed him before he started to settle into the house he'd bought. Spending money on the house was no big issue to him. he could always purchase another somewhere else. The furniture was his first step to settling in.

"Right," the woman said as she looked through the store, recovering in a very poor manner. "We have a platform bed that we just got in. Dark ebony wood, simple. A bookshelf built in on the sides, they float kind of off the ground so you don't need to worry about the bedside tables getting in the way of the books. The set also comes with a dresser, same wood, and two bedside tables, same wood on those as well. Think it comes with a mirror as well."

"King?"

"Yes."

"That's suitable."

* * *

Theodore's time spent in the furniture store was anything but pleasant. From the man that wanted to know too much about his life to the woman, his daughter, who seemed quite taken with him, it was his own personal hell on Earth. The _muggles_ asking him questions and trying to figure out what he would like and what he needed. It was a truly painful experience, one that seemed to drag on and on with no end. Until finally, it ended; just as suddenly as this self-inflicted torture began it ceased with his selection of the final lamp for the lounge.

He paid the _muggle_ father and daughter duo in their _muggle_ paper money. He was careful not to pull the entire bundle of bills from the pocket of his coat. He'd made that mistake when paying for a meal when he first started his journey. The cashier had been completely bewildered by the sheer amount of money in his hand that she called her manager to ensure that it was not counterfeit. Instead, he just pulled out the largest bills, counting them out for the _muggle_ family. The woman commented on it, and to that Theo had responded with: "I knew I was coming to spend a lot, so I brought a lot." He was sure that it sounded odd, but her father, the muggle with the receding hairline had said as long as it wasn't fake, he was unconcerned about its origins. After paying, he'd told Theo to give them about two hours to get everything loaded onto the truck and he would send some people to the address.

Hands pressed deep into his pockets and his head down, he started back up the road to his house. Around him, he could hear the sounds of early afternoon. Children were laughing, really squealing in a pitch that was most unpleasant to his ear. Glancing at them from the corner of his eye, he could see that they were all holding ice cream cones and running down the sidewalk, no parent in sight. His eyes followed the loud _muggle_ children down the road until they turned a corner. On that corner was a coffee shop, _Corner Café._ He snorted. How creative of the _muggles_ , he thought to himself. On the window in write font was: _Pastries, Coffee, Tea._

He stopped. Tea. Tea sounded good, and the _muggles_ couldn't really mess that up, could they? After all, it was just water and leaves; there was nothing outwardly complicated about that. Hesitantly, he reached out and opened the door and as he did a tiny bell over the door tinkled.

"Welcome to the Corner Café," a voice called from somewhere in the back. "You can have a seat anywhere you like, I'll be right out to take your order."

He couldn't say that he was surprised by this course of events. _Muggles_ were always unprepared. If he were a betting man, he would have said that the person was out om a smoke break or watching that mind draining telly or something else unproductive. Thoughts focused on the unproductive _muggle_ server, he picked a two-person table at the window, this way he could see everything happening at the intersection. If anything, or anyone, came that looked suspicious he could make a run for it.

"Alright, sorry about that wait."

Theodore tore his eyes away from the intersection and towards the speaker. _That voice._ He knew that voice. Instead of copper-toned hair blowing in the wind, it was pulled back off of the heart shaped face, exposing slightly pointed ears that were arguably slightly too small for the head that they were attached to. Green eyes focused down at a notepad in small hands with something small and black between slender fingers. Freckles and flour played across a delicate nose.

"My name's-"

Her voice trailed off as she finally looked away from the notepad in her hands. The recognition settled into her features again. Eyebrows knitting together and a single white canine tooth appeared from her mouth to catch the corner of her lip. Her green eyes blinked several times as she looked at him.

"You're the bloke from the station," she said after a moment. When Theodore didn't response, she continued. "Right then. What can I get from you?"

"Earl Grey," he answered shortly.

"Pastry?" the copper-haired girl asked.

Theodore watched as she pressed the tip of the skinny black object between her fingers to the paper and begin writing. Writing without ink; what was that object called? He frowned, wracking his brain for the answer.

"We have a good scone selection. Blueberry and Poppy Seed seem to be really popular right now if you wanted to try one of those?" she suggested.

"Just the tea."

The girl nodded, turning on her heel and leaving walking back to the counter. "Would you like the tea in a to-go cup?"

"No."

The café was quiet as she worked. The sound of water starting to boil and then being poured into a cup. She hummed a bit as she made the tea, a sound that he found to be annoying. Due to the fact that, he couldn't place the song she was humming. He was convinced that it was some _muggle_ tune, and that fact upset him even more.

"Earl Grey," she said as she placed the mug on the table in front of him. "Enjoy and when you are ready to pay, let me know."

Without waiting for him to speak, she left again disappearing behind the counter and starting to sweep. With the sweeping came the humming. He frowned as he watched her reflection in the window before he looked down at the mug. The tea bag still sat in the cup, seeping. Taking the spoon, he stirred the liquid, the noise of the spoon hitting the cup drowning out her humming.

"How's it?" her voice asked from behind the counter.

Theodore looked up his blue eyes meeting her green ones in the window. She was leaning on the counter, arms crossed over her chest and elbows on the surface of the counter. "It's tea," he told her.

"Your first tea in town is on the house," the girl said.

Theo put the mug down on the table more heavily than needed as he turned to look at her. "I don't need your charity."

The smile that had been on her lips faltered at the intensity of his voice and gaze. She stood up straight, arms still over her chest. "It's not charity. It's called being hospitable."

"How much?" he asked standing from his seat and making his way toward her. When she didn't respond, he asked again. "How much?"

"Three pounds," she answered, looking down at her hands and away from his cold gaze.

Theo placed three pounds on the surface of the counter, slamming it down with his palm. "I am in no need for your charity," he told her again.

"Right then," the café worker replied, her voice smaller and much less bright than it had been a moment ago. "Thank you for your patronage."

Theodore left the café, his tea unfinished, and stepped into the street. His blood was boiling as he made his way back home. These _muggles._ That girl offering him a free cup of tea, as if he couldn't pay for it on his own. He had spent more money in his eighteen years than she would ever see in her entire life, he was sure of that. Yet, here she was offering him charity. Then there was the man with the furniture store, touching him as if they were old friends.

Pushing his hands into his pockets, he scoffed.

* * *

 **A/N:** Well, hello again. We almost officially met our copper-haired mystery girl! Not quite, but soon. Again, I am overwhelmed by the response that this story has gotten. I really expected it to be a flub, but it's doing so well. I'm having a lot of fun writing Theo, I think he's really starting to come into his own, right? Let me know what you think and leave a review. I am one of those writers that generally replies back to every review I get, even if it's 'hey, that was great!'. I really like to interact with my readers and get their opinions on things. And actions speak louder than words right, I can say that I appreciate your reviews and all, but taking the time to respond to them is something special to me, that I picked up from one of my favorite writers on the site. So leave me a review and let me know what you think.

 **~ Nikki**


	4. Chapter 4

He woke with a start, sitting straight up in bed and opening his eyes. The sheets clinging to the thin layer of sweat on his legs. His blue eyes struggled to focus in the dark room. A dark and unfamiliar room. Immediately, his hand reached for his wand, reaching over to his left and groping at the space where his wand usually was. When his hand came back empty, sheer panic started to set in.

His wand was missing.

Hands moving all over the end table, they came up empty still. His hands moved to the bed, sliding to the cool side of the pillow and then to the other pillow. The more distance he covered and didn't feel his wand, the more the panic grew. Reaching off the bed and to the floor, running his hands along the cool surface of the floor. His fingers brushed against something soft. The rub. Pulling back suddenly, he sat up straight again.

The panic falling away as suddenly as it had come.

His wand.

He'd broken it.

He had no magic.

Theodore Nott slouched forward, elbows falling to the bedsheets and heels of his hands pressing into his eyes. Sweat dripped from his hair to the sheet beneath him. His breathing slowed. Heart rate decreasing and chest rising and falling slower. He stayed like this for a moment, muscles in his back stretching.

He'd had that dream again. The one that had plagued him since he had left home. He remembered the first night he'd had it. He'd stayed in a cheap, run-down, _muggle_ hotel with roaches. He'd fallen asleep on top of the faded sheets only to wake up in a cold sweat hours later. Afterward, he was unable to go back to sleep. That was the first night he'd had it. Since then, it had come to him every so often; waking him from whatever sleep that he had managed to find.

He exhaled loudly, straightening and swing his feet onto the floor. The cool wood sent a chill through his body as he stood. He reached over and turned on the small lamp on the bedside table, the dim light chasing the shadows into the corners.

Shower.

He moved to the en-suite bathroom, turning on that light as well. Theodore glanced at his reflection in the mirror. Dark circles formed under his blue eyes, making them seem bluer. There was a stubble on his chin, dark brown. He looked so _unkempt._ Turning away from his reflection, he turned on the shower. Stripping off the boxers he'd slept in and stepped in.

The hot water poured over him, soaking his hair and his skin. Washing away the sweat, the remnants of the dream that had awoken him.

* * *

Standing the near the shore was peaceful. The breeze off the ocean was soothing. The boy leaned his elbows on the railing in front of him. Blue eyes looking out over the dark water, watching the white foam wash onto the shore. The waves breaking softly.

 _Muggles_ were running on the sand, struggling. He shook his head, watching one man who was struggling more than others. He'd run down the stairs from the concrete walkway that Theodore was standing on, and to the sand, where he got all of two yards before he had to stop and place his hands on his knees. _Pathetic._

The sun started to rise over the horizon, brightening the shore. Moving away from the railing, he started down the walkway along the shore. More _muggles_ were out. He caught bits of their conversations. Trivial things, really. One girl and her boyfriend were fighting, she was telling another girl all about it. Another man was talking about rent. Trivial. They had no idea how close their whole world had come to being destroyed. _Pathetic._

"Oi."

Theodore stopped in his tracks and looked over his shoulder almost reluctantly. The man from the shop. The one that had placed his heavy hand on his shoulder. He turned his gaze forward and continued down the path. Perhaps if he ignored him, he would go away. He put a little more gusto in his step, as he moved away from the _muggle_ with the disappearing hairline. The man called out to him once more and then Theodore didn't hear the man's voice again.

The crowd thickened on the walkway. More runners had appeared, dodging in and out of the crowds. Some _muggles_ would step out of the way, Theodore on the other hand, stood his ground, not altering his path in the slightest as he walked.

It was then that he saw it. A flash of copper came into view. As soon as he noticed it, it disappeared again. He blamed it on is sleep deprived state. However, when it appeared again, he didn't ignore it. Darting in and out of the crowd. Something familiar about the copper color. As he walked, his eyes followed the color. Something familiar about it. He couldn't place it. Not until it was right on top of him.

Literally.

In his efforts to place where he knew the familiar color from, he hadn't really noticed that it had moved into his direct path.

Theodore stopped as the copper color ran directly into him. Colliding with him with such force that he stumbled backward. The wizard fell back to the pavement, hands hitting the pavement to keep from harming himself further.

"Sorry."

That voice.

Theo opened his eyes looking up at the person who had assaulted him. Freckles, ones that played across that delicate nose. The copper hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, exposing the slightly pointed ears.

The girl from the café and the train.

One of her legs was over his and her hand was pressed to his chest, she'd used him to stop her fall. He grimaced. Her palm. Her _muggle_ palm _,_ resting on his chest. Touching him. Theodore pulled away from her awkwardly, because of the position he was in. Her hand fell to the ground, eliciting a grunt of pain from her as it did. Her eyes opened as she sat back on her haunches and rubbed her hands together. "Oh." Her green eyes settled on him. "It's you." She moved to stand. He noted the tear in her pants at her knee. "I would help you, but I wouldn't want to offer you any of my charity."

Theodore scoffed as he pushed himself up, brushing his hands on his pants as he did. He could see little beads of sweat on her forehead and the faint red color on her skin.

"Is it too charitable of me to ask if you are alright?" she questioned.

He watched her, trying to read her. While her tone had a hard edge to it, her eyes didn't, almost as if she were teasing him. "I'm fine."

She shrugged, rubbing her shoulder. "I'm fine as well. In case it was of any concern to you."

"It wasn't."

Theodore moved around her and continued away from her. Leaving her standing on the walkway, her green eyes watching his retreating form.

* * *

Theodore brought the mug to his lips taking a sip of the beverage inside. Sputtering, he promptly removed the cup from his mouth and poured the contents down the drain. It was awful. He turned his icy eyes towards the coffee maker on his kitchen counter as well as to the mess that he had created in the past half an hour.

This should not be a hard task.

House elves did it.

 _Muggles_ did it.

And yet, he could not.

Grunting in frustration, he reached out and knocked the coffee maker to the floor. The glass pot shattered as it hit the floor, pieces scattering across the tile. He frowned at the new mess that he had created. _Repairo._ That would have made everything much easier. Instead, he knelt to start picking up the pieces of glass. He'd managed to pick up a few pieces before one cut him. "Shit," he hissed, dropping the glass on the floor again. He stood, holding his hand under the water. His blood washing down the drain.

After the water ran clear, he left the kitchen and the mess and grabbed his coat. He had a desire for coffee and he could not provide it for himself. He couldn't make a damn cup of coffee and he was a bloody wizard. The thought disgusted him. He couldn't do something that _muggles_ could do.

He stopped.

The Corner Café.

He glanced in the window and there it was. Copper colored hair standing behind the counter. Lazily, leaning on the counter flipping through a book. Her cheek was pressed to her fist as her eyes scanned over the pages.

Twice in one day.

Groaning internally, he pushed the door open. She flipped the book shut quickly and stood up straight as the bell tinkled over the door. Her hurry to look as if she weren't just reading a book on the job amused him. "Welcome to the…" She frowned, looking up at him. "You again."

"Coffee, black," he ordered moving to the table that he had sat at when he came the first time. The one by the window.

By the time he sat down, she was placing a cup in front of him. "Welcome."

She left him with his drink and went back to the counter, where she flipped the book open. She took her original position and started to read again. Theodore's eyes watched her for a moment but then turned his gaze to the street.

"It's two pounds," she told him suddenly, breaking the silence. He looked at her reflection in the window. She didn't look up at him as she spoke, only turned the page of her book. "When you're ready to pay, you can just leave it on the table."

He nodded, the cup cradled in his hands.

Theodore exhaled slowly, blowing the steam over the coffee towards the window. Sitting at this intersection, he could see up the four streets that he had decided were the most traveled in this city. The one that ran parallel to the shop had the north station on it. The one that ran right in front of the window went straight to the shore. Everyone that came to the city he could see, in theory.

He placed his cup down, seeing it was empty and pushed it to the side. His eyes stayed on the street, watching. She appeared next to him, pouring more coffee into the cup. "Refills are free, but if you want to pay it's just another 2 pounds."

"Right."

From this spot, it was easier to breathe. Less of a weight on his shoulders. He put that on the fact that he could see everything, well what he considered everything. He pulled five pounds from his pocket and placed it by the empty cup, but didn't move.

The girl behind the counter had stopped reading and was humming again as she wiped down the counter. It was different from the first time he'd heard her humming when he came a few weeks ago. It was different but oddly familiar. His ears twitched as he tried to hear what tune she was humming. He glanced over at her, watching as she moved behind the counter.

She glanced up, her green eyes meeting his blue ones. "Refill?" she questioned as she reached over to grab the coffee pot.

"No," he said standing suddenly.

"Change?" she asked.

"No." She nodded, returning to her humming and her wiping of the counter. Theo approached the door. "That song," he mumbled under his breath. "What are you humming?"

He'd struck up a conversation with a _muggle_. He'd actually asked her, this _muggle_ girl, a question. He blamed it on the fact that he had not had a conversation with someone in about a month. He'd stooped to asking a _muggle_ a question. The realization hit him hard, but he didn't leave.

"Clair de Lune," she answered. "Are we asking questions now?"

"No," he told her. "I just wanted to know the name of the song."

"What is your name, sir?" she questioned.

He looked over at her, green eyes expectant. He placed his hand on the knob and twisted it, pushing the door open.

"I've told you the name of the song, you could at least tell me your name," she countered.

"Theodore," he mumbled under his breath before he could stop himself.

"Olivia," she introduced as he walked out of the door, letting it shut behind him.

He had to get away from the café. No matter how much he craved a good conversation, something to challenge his intellect, he would not stoop so low as to start a conversation with a _muggle_. He shook his head, hands pressed into his pockets. He frowned deeply as he walked home.

He was not here to become friends with these _muggles_. He was here to isolate himself from the wizarding world, not to become like them.

* * *

 **A/N:** Ah, we finally meet the mystery girl! Fun fact: the reason that we haven't really met her was because she didn't have a name until this chapter. Thank you for the reviews and follows. Leave me a review and let me know what you think! I love reviews!

Also, Happy Valentine's Day!

 **~ Nikki**


	5. Chapter 5

Thursday.

No. That was wrong. It had been Thursday yesterday.

Today was Friday.

Maybe.

Theodore groaned loudly, getting up from the mahogany wood desk in his office. The force of his sudden movement sent the chair sliding back across the floor and to the wall. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes as he paced the small space.

Theodore had been in his house for two weeks. After striking up a conversation with the _muggle_ girl, he'd decided that he could not continue to immerse himself with the _muggles_. He would live among them. However, he refused to befriend any of them. He would not lose who he was to them. So, he decided that it would be for the best to stay in his house. He'd gone to the store and purchased groceries. He, Theodore Nott, had done his own shopping. The thought was enough to make Merlin squirm.

It had been good for a few days.

He'd organized things. He'd finally been able to unpack the things in his bag. Before he'd broken his wand, he'd cast and undetectable expansion charm on the bag. He'd taken the most important things that he thought he would need. Most of the items in the bag were clothes; he had an expansive wardrobe. However, he'd also took some books, light reading. _Quidditch Through the Ages_ and _The Tales of Beedle and Bard._ He placed them on the bookshelf with several other books. After that it had all started to go downhill, he'd read all the books he'd brought with him in two days. Afterward, he started to organize his closet and clean his bathroom. Then slept for an entire day. He had started to get bored by the end of the fourth day. Halfway through the fifth day, he started to count the tiles on the kitchen floor. He'd gotten to forty-something before he had pushed away from the small table in the kitchen and moved to the terrace. He'd spent a few days on the there, watching the clouds and the setting sun. The days had started to blur long ago.

Out.

He needed to get out.

Icy eyes glanced at the clock on the stove, _9:45 am._ He'd been up since the clock read 5:00. Since then, he'd showered and made toast and eggs, that were only slightly burned, the only thing that he had managed to successfully cook in the past two weeks.

Now, he needed out.

Snatching a light jacket from the coat closet, he stepped out of the house and onto the sidewalk. The moving air felt good against his face. His hands were deep in his pockets as he moved down the street. His eyes moved across the area in front of him. The _muggles_ were running again and the cars speeding down the street.

 _Tattered Covers._

A bookstore. Theodore stopped in front of the store. From outside the window, he could see people milling around, pulling books off the shelves by their spines and opening books. Books. A book would be nice. He frowned deeply. It would be a _muggle_ book. He couldn't have that. Sighing he turned away from the store and moving past it.

He walked all of three yards before he stopped and looked back over his shoulder. A book. He turned back to the store. Placing his hand on the doorknob, he pushed it open. He stepped over the threshold slowly, placing each foot in the shop with a sense of hesitation.

The shop smelled like ink and paper, and reminded him of the Hogwarts Library. During the first four years of his schooling, he had not spent any time in the vast library of magical knowledge. However, during his fifth year he had ventured into the place to study for his O.W.L.S. After that he'd spent a lot of time there, reading for classes and then just for fun.

His eyes skimmed across the book titles and genres. _Nonfiction. Fiction. Sci-Fi. Romance._ He stopped looking at the book with elaborate images on the cover. All of them had the man with long hair and a different woman leaning on him in the most provocative of ways. He moved away, sickened. _Muggles_ advertising their sex _._ He continued onto another row of shelves, making note to never approach it again. He continued down the aisles, looking at the names of the _muggles_ writers.

"Theodore?" He sighed deeply, lowered his head and continued down the aisle. "I know your name now, the least you could do is acknowledge me."

He looked up, over the shelf he was standing at and saw the copper-haired girl with the freckles and the slightly pointed ears, sitting in a chair with a book in her hands. It was closed on her thumb and her bright green eyes watching him. Her name, like all the names of the _muggles_ he'd met, escaped him.

"I saw you over the shelves. You're tall," she told him.

"I see," he told her. The more he looked at her the more he felt like her name was on the tip of his tongue.

"Looking for a book?" she asked as she stood.

"Obviously," he stated, his finger running along the spines of the book.

She approached him, copper hair pulled off her face. "What are you into?" He continued to look at the books. "Um, there's murder mysteries." He continued to ignore her. "Um, there's books about," she plucked a book from the shelf, "well, this one is a murder mystery too."

He stopped suddenly, causing her to run into him. However, that was the least of his concerns. Her _muggle_ skin on his. His icy eyes were on a book title. ' _Merlin Book 1: The Lost Years_ '. A _muggle_ had written about Merlin? The wizard, Merlin, was being written about by _muggles_. He fought the urge to yank the book off the shelf and tear it to pieces. These _muggles_ knew nothing of Merlin and his great power. Also, what 'lost years'? He had no 'lost years'. This was outrageous. He felt the blood in his vein start to boil and he tried to calm himself, taking a slow inhale and an even slower exhale.

"Oh, that one's awful," she said, following his line of sight. His eyes snapped over to her. "If you're into magic, hold on a moment." The girl backed away from him. "Stay there." She disappeared behind another shelf and when she returned she was holding a book in her hands. "The Sword in the Stone."

"The sword in the Stone," Theodore echoed.

"You can read. Good," she said. The look on Theodore's face was very unamused and uninterested. The copper-haired girl noted that and she disappeared again. "Okay. So maybe we try a classic." She looked over the shelf at him, her green eyes looking up at him every so often. Theodore watched her, frowning as she dipped in and out of the shelves, disappearing and reappearing.

Theodore turned towards the door, the fact that the _muggles_ were writing about a wizard still causing waves of nausea in his stomach. Not onlyMerlin, but magic in general. That was not for them. They knew nothing of magic. It sickened him. He could hear her voice calling his name, but he continued out of the store.

* * *

He'd been to the walkway near the shore, leaning on the railing and watching the water on the shore. The _muggle_ girls were sitting on their towels, laughing. They'd run out into the water, still laughing. He turned his attention away from them, their laughter irritating him. It was at the frequency that got under his skin, like the shrill laughter of the _muggle_ children. He sauntered down the walkway, moving in the direction of his house.

He'd been out.

Now, he was going home.

Theodore strolled down the street, hands in his pockets of his jacket. As hard as he tried he could not get the thought of the Merlin book out his mind, and every time he thought about it the waves of nausea returned. How dare they! They knew nothing of Merlin. They knew nothing of his journeys. They knew nothing. His hands tightened into a fist in his pockets. Nothing.

He found himself standing in front of the Corner Café.

Tea would calm him.

"Coffee, black or Earl Grey?"

He did not bother to look up at the speaker as he walked to the table he liked to sit at, the one where he could see everything. "Earl Grey," he answered.

The sound of water boiling and the mug hitting the saucer greeted his ears. Then the sound of her footfalls. She placed the saucer on the table in front of him. He reached out, to take the mug, but she placed something else on the table. Theodore turned his eyes to the second object on the table.

"They are two of my favorites and they are classics," she told him.

"Books."

"Yes. You left the store earlier," she said. Theodore gazed over at her, as she tucked a loose strand of copper hair behind her slightly pointed ear. "I was going to suggest them to you, but you left. So, when I went home before my shift, I picked them up. I figured I might see you here sometime and I could give them to you."

His eyebrow arched as she spoke. He had not heard her say so many words in one breath; he had never heard anyone say that many words in one breath. "Okay."

The green-eyed girl heard back to the counter. "Okay, the _Great Gatsby_ is a classic unrequited love story, beautifully tragic. Then the _Lord of the Flies_ , a tale of mutiny and survival. Both classics, both great choices. Sorry about the writing in them; I have read them a lot and I take notes in the margins about things I like."

Theodore turned his gaze away from her and he brought the cup of tea in front of him. He pulled the still seeping tea bag out of his cup and then brought the cup to his lips. From the corner of his eye, he looked at the two books she had placed on the table beside him. She'd brought him books? To her job? Because she thought that she would see him?

"You like blueberries?" her voice questioned from beside him.

"What?"

"Blueberries," she said slowly, "do you like them?"

"They're fine."

She placed a plate on the table. "Blueberry scone."

"I didn't order a scone."

"I am aware," she said as she walked away from him. "We can only have six out at a time and that's the seventh. It's already on the plate, so enjoy."

Theodore's eyes narrowed as he looked at her. Copper hair pulled back into a loose French braid. Bright green eyes glinting with something. Sly _muggle_ girl. He could have ignored the scone, but he had only been eating eggs and toast for two weeks. His mouth had started to salivate as soon as she'd placed the thing in front of him. Sly _muggle_ girl. But, he did not need her charity. Under her curious gaze, he pushed the scone away.

"Three pounds," she told him, as she moved away from the counter and towards a doorway behind it. "I have to go to the back so if you are done before I get back just," she looked over her shoulder and smiled at him, her eyes glinting with something he didn't catch, "do what you usually do."

With that she disappeared through the doorway.

Theodore looked at the place where she'd disappeared. The corners of his mouth twitched. Sly, sly, _muggle_ girl _._ He broke off a piece of the scone and brought it to his mouth, tasting it. He slouched forward a little at the taste. This scone was much better than the toast and eggs he'd been eating for fourteen days. He reached for another piece of the scone with one hand and then one of the books with the other. The tale of unrequited love did not seem bearable. However, the tale of mutiny. That sounded tolerable.

He thumbed through the book. She was right; she did write in the margins; a lot. He spotted some of her notes on the sides of the paper. Her handwriting was small and curvy, cursive, leaning slightly to the right. Theodore flipped back to the first page, eyes moving over the words on the page. By the time, he finished the scone, he was halfway through the first chapter.

Finishing off his tea, he placed three pounds on the table and took the book with him, holding his place with his thumb.

"Have a nice evening, Theodore," she called out.

He looked over his shoulder to see her leaning against the doorframe of the door leading to the backroom. A soft smirk played on her lips as she wiped her hands on a towel.

"You made a good pick," she said, gesturing towards the book in his hands.

He blinked several times as she pushed herself off the doorframe and walked towards the table he'd been sitting at. _Olivia_. That was her name. It hit him suddenly.

"Let me know what you think," she told him. "Or just return it and you can trade it for the _Great Gatsby_."

"Right."

She shrugged. "So, have a good evening," she told him.

Theodore placed his hand on the doorknob and pushed it open the bell above the door tinkling above him. "Right, evening," he mumbled as he left the shop.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello! I've been insanely productive today, these past few days, and I am a few chapters ahead. Which is great for me, because that means the plot bunnies will let me sleep, but even better for you. Why? That means that I can post another chapter sooner. Like two in the same day. It's crazy! Happy Valentine's Day, right? Just, don't get too used to it. It may never happen again. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'm currently typing out chapter seven, and I have in my head what should happen in eight and nine, it's just spacing out events and getting the time to sit down and write them. You know the bit, leave me a review and let me know what you think.

 **~ Nikki**


	6. Chapter 6

Theodore had finished her _muggle_ book halfway through the next day.

He'd been sitting at his desk in the office when he'd read the last line. His eyebrows knitted together as he closed the book and pushed it away from him. Leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest, he looked at the cover.

He chuckled to himself. This book. This proved the primitive nature of the _muggles._ This novel of savagery versus civilization. It showed how completely savage these _muggles_ were. Killing their own, senselessly killing their own. These _muggles_ were barbaric, in no uncertain terms. They were simply barbaric and murderous. This novel only showed that the _muggles_ were lesser than the wizarding community. This would have never happened in the wizarding world. The wizarding community would never result to such savagery.

He flipped open the book again. As he was reading, he noticed the _muggle_ girl _'s_ handwriting on the sides of some of the pages. He had ignored them as he read, or at least he tried. It took a great amount of concentration to do so, due to the fact, that there were pages where she had underlined entire paragraphs and circled entire quotes. The margins on several pages were covered in her curvy handwriting; her 's's leaned to the right and her 'y's looped under the word they were attached to. His eyes fell on one of the quotes she'd underlined.

" _Maybe it's only us."_ Was the quote. Then off to the side her cursive handwriting read: _'Evil = natural component of human nature?''_ Then in a different color ink, her handwriting continued. _'The beast is not a 'beast', a monster, it is a concept created by the children. Something tangible to fear instead of fearing something within, savagery'._ His eyes moved from the first comment to the second. They had clearly been written at two different times; two different ways of viewing the quote or at least interpretations of it.

Theodore removed a quill from the vial of ink and placed it on the page. _Yes._ He scrawled on the page, under her initial comment.

Suddenly, Theodore flipped the book shut and dropped the quill into the ink. A wave of disgust and shock washed over him as he grasped what he had just done. He flipped back to the page, hoping that it had been an error, that he had imagined that he wrote in the book. He hadn't. His writing contrasted with hers. Not that his writing was sloppy, quite the opposite. It was very neat; his letters didn't curve like hers, they were perfectly vertical, t's crossed with a perfectly straight line and i's dotted with a single perfect dot. There it was.

 _Bloody hell._

He was doing it again. Opening the line of conversation with that _muggle_ girl, _Olivia_. Her name kept floating in and out of his head. The _muggle_ girl, _Olivia._ Her name stuck. Out of all of the _muggles_ he had come into contact with, her name, her _muggle_ name, _Olivia_ , stuck. He'd opened more conversation with her. He'd written in her book.

 _Merlin's Beard._

Theodore stood from the desk, leaving the book on it and exiting the room.

* * *

Th wizard woke in another cold sweat. Frantically he pushed the sheets off his body, desperate to have his skin in contact with the cool air in the room. His skin was flushed as he tried to catch his breath. His vision was blurry. He let his eyes settle on a spot on the wall and slowly the edges of his vision started focus; moving from the outside in. It took a moment for the center of his vision to clear. When it did, he sighed deeply, frowning.

That dream again.

Knowing he wasn't going to get any more sleep, he got out of bed. He turned on the light at the bedside table and looked at the books on his bookshelf. His eyes moved across the titles on the shelf. He'd read them all, many times. However, he plucked a book about dragons, one he knew he'd read at least twice since he'd been in Blackpool. Barefeet on the hardwood, he walked down the hallway to his office. Flicking on the light in the office, he settled into the chair behind the desk.

Theodore opened the book, his eyes scanning over the words on the pages. He wasn't really reading, just skimming. As he turned the page, his gaze fell on the book that had been sitting on the edge of his desk for the past week. He turned his gaze away and back to the book about dragons. However, every time he turned the page his eyes fell on the book. The title in blood red on a background of a jungle. As much as he tried to ignore the book, his gaze continued to fall on it.

He sighed; closing the book on dragon breeding, he reached for the _muggle_ book. He scoffed. Salazar would skin him for this. Dropping a book from the wizarding world, their world, and picking up one from the _muggle_ world.

No.

"Draco would skin me," he mumbled under his breath with a smirk on his lips as he leaned back in the chair, opening the book.

Draco. Theodore sighed, rubbing his nose between his thumb and pointer finger. The last time he'd seen his blond friend was two nights before he'd left. He, Draco, and Blaise had all sat in Theodore's Manor, in the drawing room, drinking Fire Whiskey. Draco played tough, keeping his walls up, when the conversation turned to the Ministry's decision to hunt down former Death Eaters. Draco had laughed it off, telling he and Blaise to "Sod off" and that when the Ministry came to get him, he'd "Go with a fight that would make the Battle of Hogwarts look like a duel between two first years". Of course, he and Blaise knew. They knew that Draco was unnerved. Blaise even confessed that he was unnerved, and even mentioned that he might be considering turning himself in.

Theodore sighed, flipping to page one and reading the _muggle_ girl's, _Olivia's,_ handwriting in the margins.

* * *

 _Salazar's Soul._

Theodore sat back in his chair, placing the book on the desk again.

 _Salazar's bloody soul._

This had happened.

This had happened in his world.

Voldemort.

This type of mutiny had happened.

Theodore sat, astounded.

The _muggles_ understood.

His people were barbaric, like the…

He stood suddenly, taking the book with him as he walked out of the room. He opened the closet and got dressed quickly. With the book still in his hands, he left the house. The wizard walked down the street, distractedly weaving through the crowds of _muggles_ milling on the sidewalk.

This novel had not proven what he thought it had. Not exactly. It had partially proven what he had expected. That the _muggles_ and their world were barbaric. Yes. The novel showed that. However, the connection that he had made, reading the book the second time through as well as the _muggle_ girl's, _Olivia's,_ notes was startling.

The bell tinkled as he pushed the door open to the Corner Café.

"Theodore?" she asked as he walked into the café, she was behind the counter organizing something or other. He didn't move toward his usual seat at the window, instead he walked toward her at the counter. He slammed the book down on the surface, sliding it to the middle of the counter. "I take it you didn't enjoy it?"

"That's not what I said," he said.

"Oh?" She leaned forward, her elbows on the counter, her previous task completely abandoned. "And…?"

Theodore held his tongue, debating on if this was the correct choice. To converse, with this _muggle_ girl. He looked at her. Bright green eyes looking up at him expectantly. Freckles on her nose, accompanied by the flour that was only on her nose when she was here. "It was enlightening," he supplied. He pushed his hands into his pockets, his blue eyes looking down into her expectant ones.

She picked up the book, thumbing through the pages. She stopped suddenly, fingers moving backward through the pages until they came to a stop. "Yes?" she said, before showing him what she was talking about. His handwriting in her book. A smile played on her lips and a frown found its way to his. "You wrote in my book. Did you answer any more of my notes?" she asked as she flipped through the book again, trying to spot another glimpse of his handwriting.

"No."

"Well, why yes?" she asked. Theodore averted his eyes, looking away from her green ones to an oddly similarly colored cup behind the stood there for a moment, green eyes still watching him. She tilted her head to the side and nodded."Coffee, black or Earl Grey?"

"Coffee, black," he told her.

She nodded, gesturing to the table that he usually sat at. She tucked a loose strand of her copper hair behind her ear as she moved to prep his cup of coffee. As it brewed, she tucked the book under the counter and produced another.

" _The Great Gatsby_ ," she told him as she placed his cup of coffee on the table and the book she referred to next to it. "I think we started you off a little strong with that other one. This one is a classic, I mean so is the other one, but this is also a classic. Unrequited love. Just," she tapped it with her slender finger, "read it. Read it and then tell me if you think all people are born bad." She turned away from him, her hair whipping over her shoulder as she moved away from him. "And maybe don't take a week to read this one? I was concerned that I'd never get that one back."

He looked over at her, and her teasing tone. "You keep this here?"

"Well, this is where I see you," she said leaning on the counter again. "And you had to bring this one back," she reached under the counter and held up the book he'd just returned before dropping it back under the counter again.

"Right."

She started humming, and Theo's hand tightened on the cup as he took a long sip. "Where are you from?" Theo's blue eyes met her's in the window. She shrugged. "Just figured, you would want to share, since I shared my book."

Sly _muggle_ girl, _Olivia_. "Bristol," he grunted.

"Oh, it's nice there, yeah?" she questioned.

He watched her reflection in the mirror as she wiped down the counter. She looked up again, her green eyes on him. "Sure?" She laughed, and Theo turned towards her. "What?" he asked.

"You know you are allowed to use more than five words to answer my questions," she told him, the remnants of the laugh still in her tone.

"Right."

"Right," she echoed.

Theodore watched her through his icy eyes. She'd looked down at something on the counter, and when she looked up he was still watching her. Her bright eyes fell on him and she smiled again. He noted the dimples in her cheeks. He turned his gaze away from her. "Yeah."

"Yeah, what?" her voice asked.

"Yeah, it's nice there." he clarified.

In the reflection of the glass, he saw her smile. A toothy smile. Her copper hair had freed itself from the position she'd placed it in behind her ear and fallen into her face. Theodore ducked his head, looking down at the cup of coffee and away from her.

"Hey, Theodore," she called to him.

"What?"

"So, you're new here and I never really see you out," she started, leaning on the counter. Her eyes were expectant again.

He rolled his eyes; she was looking for confirmation. "Yes."

"So there's a gathering on the…"

Theodore held up his hand, and she stopped talking. Her head tilting to the side, watching him through her green eyes. "No."

Her smile faltered and her copper eyebrows lowered. "May I be so bold as to ask why?"

Theodore placed the three pounds on the table before standing. He took the book from the counter, looking down at the cover. "You may?"

She looked over at him. "Well, why?"

Theodore placed a hand on the doorknob. "I said you could ask, I didn't say that I would tell you."

She rolled her eyes. "It's next Saturday at 7 on the beach, there'll be a fire," she told him, waving him off with the washcloth in her hand. "I expect to see you before then though," she pointed at the book. "Goodbye, Theodore."

"Goodbye."

* * *

"Draco would kill me," Theodore said as he walked into his house. "He would actually kill me." He laughed to himself, dropping the book he'd taken from the _muggle, Olivia_ , on to the coffee table in the lounge and sitting on the leather chair in the lounge.

Him, a pureblood wizard, talking with her, a _muggle_ girl. He was Theodore Nott; the son of Henry Nott. He was a wizard of the purest descent, pureblood running back for generations. Blood that traced back to the time of the Founders. She on the other hand. She was a _muggle._ She probably couldn't trace her blood back pass her grandparents. Her unpure blood.

This was ridiculous.

He was a pureblood, a purebred wizard, living among _muggles._ People that he didn't understand, those that he had no desire to understand. They were an incompetent people; he was sure of that. The _muggle_ at the cash register at the shop always overcharged him for his milk and when he told her, she would tell him he was wrong. Him, wrong!? Ha. Incompetent at her own job. The _muggle_ with the receding hairline, the one from the furniture store, had forgotten a lamp and didn't remember for a week and a half. He'd showed up at his door, red faced holding it in his hand. The _muggle_ girl at the Corner Café, _Olivia,_ was the only _muggle_ who seemed to be competent at her job. She made decent tea and decent coffee. And, as much as it pained him to admit it, she was decent conversation.

Propping his feet up on the table, he picked up the book. Thumbing through it, he saw her cursive handwriting on the pages.

"While Draco was killing me, Blaise would put me under Cruciatus," Theodore commented again as he turned back to the first page.

He was sure that if he ever let Blaise or Draco know that he had read a _muggle_ book and enjoyed it because he did enjoy the other book, this is until it had managed to hit a little too close to home on the second read, he would never live it down. Mostly because he would never take another breath on this Earth.

Theodore, however, had managed to convince himself that this, reading the _muggle_ books was just his way of trying to blend in; trying to keep the Ministry off his trail. If he acted the part, he would be unnoticed. It had nothing to do with him somehow finding a sense of enjoyment in _muggle_ literature.

No.

That would be preposterous.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hey there! I hope that you enjoyed this chapter. I don't have a lot to stay about this chapter. I enjoyed writing it, but I always enjoy writing things at all times. Leave me a review and let me know what you think about it.

 **~ Nikki**


	7. Chapter 7

"Afternoon, Theodore," her voice greeted.

He scoffed, the corners of his lips twitching, as he made his way to the counter. She'd hardly looked away from her task before greeting him. He placed the book on the counter, in a much less aggressive manner than when he'd returned the last one. He tapped it with his finger, bringing her attention to it.

"I didn't expect to see that one back so soon. Took you a week with the first one," she continued to rub the coffee cup dry with the cloth in her hands as she walked up to him. "And?"

Theodore glanced down at her expectant green eyes, he then rolled his eyes. "Naïve."

"Gatsby?" she questioned, as she started to thumb through the book. "Yeah, I suppose." He noted a flicker of something in her green eyes when she reached the last page. Disappointment, perhaps? He hadn't taken the time to answer any of her comments in the margins this time.

"The whole lot of them."

"Oh?" Her interested piqued.

Theodore hesitated. These conversations, the one's with the _muggle_ girl at the café, had become something of a highlight for him, as much as he **hated** to admit that. He hated to admit that conversation with this _muggle_ girl interested him. That she had some sort of intellect and that her intellect was something that piqued his interest.

"Yes. Nick, to think that Gatsby would want to be his friend out of the kindness of his heart. Gatsby was entirely selfish and did nothing that didn't involve self-betterment," Theodore told her. She looked at him blankly, blinking. "What?"

"You've never said that many words to me in one sitting," she said in a serious tone, however, she laughed a moment later. "Of course, you're right. However, Nick, he doesn't know that. Gatsby is this," she paused, waving her hand around as she tried to find the right word, "mystical being to Nick; the embodiment of life."

"Yes, and he was naive."

"Nick or Jay."

"The both of them."

"Ah?"

"Gatsby, to think that she would wait for him? He was penniless, he had nothing, and he expected her to wait."

The girl sighed. "He made his life around her."

"Stupidly."

She laughed, shaking her head, her copper-colored ponytail swaying with the motion. "So, you still think that people are born with malicious intent? Gatsby built his life around this woman, hoping that she waited for him. He moved across the water from her. He did everything for her."

Theodore sighed. "Then he used her cousin to get to her."

"He built his life for her."

"Daisy."

She sighed. "Yes. What of her?"

"Born malicious?"

"Born snobby and into money. She'd do anything to protect that, to keep that," she argued.

Theodore tapped the cover of the book again. "Yes. I still think that people are born evil, bad, with malicious intent, what have you. Daisy Buchan is the perfect example of that. She was offered everything and she caused the mess, really."

Green eyes blinked up at him. "It's romantic!" she exclaimed. "She loved him."

"You didn't strike me as naive."

Green eyes stared at him. "I'm not," she told him.

"If you believe that she loved him you are," he told her, leaning forward with his elbows on the counter.

The café worker rolled her eyes, placing a cup in front of him. "Coffee, black or Earl Grey?"

"Neither, I just came to return your book," he told her.

"And call me naïve," she added playfully.

"No, I told you that you didn't strike me as a naive person."

She sighed, green eyes rolling. "I'm not naive. I knew that she'd never leave her world for him. However, I will say that I do think that she loved him. I do; she just didn't love him _enough_. She didn't love him enough to step out of what she knew." Theodore watched her as she moved behind the counter. She seemed to be returning to the task she'd been doing when he walked in; wiping down the mugs before placing them back on the shelf behind the counter. "You just," she looked up at him as she continued, "well, as a girl, you just want to believe that she's good, you know? That she would be able to accept that someone did this for her and that someone wants to be with her more than air."

Theodore snorted. "That's illogical."

"What?" she laughed.

"That you would want someone more than air," he told her. "You'd die."

"Exactly."

Theodore's eyebrow arched as she placed the mug on the shelf and pulled out a to-go coffee cup. She filled it with the black, steaming liquid before adding two sugars and a splash of milk. "Good afternoon, Davey," she greeted as the bell above the door tinkled.

"Afternoon, Olivia," the man greeted as he moved up to the counter. A gentleman about twenty-three or so made his way towards her. Theodore stepped to the side so that the man was not too close to him. Brown eyes and thin lips that curved into a smile as the girl behind the counter handed him his coffee. "Honestly, Olivia, you're unbelievable, fantastic." He turned his gaze to Theodore, who was standing quietly hands deep in his pockets. "Isn't she fantastic, mate?"

Theodore's skin crawled as the man turned the conversation to him. Instead of speaking or nodding, he cleared his throat, turning his gaze away from him.

"It's no problem, Davey. You're working double shifts to cover for Greg the least I could do is have your coffee ready when you get here," she laughed. "How's Greg and Liza doing? I'm sure the baby is wearing them out."

"You ain't lying," the man said to her as he placed his payment on the counter. "Lemme get one of them muffin tops, the poppy seed one; if you got it."

"For you, Davey we always have them," she said as she bagged a muffin top and placed it on the counter. "Let me get your change."

"Keep it," he told her as he started to leave the cafe.

"Davey! You can't leave me a four pound tip!"

"The least I can do for you, love. See you bright and early tomorrow."

Before she could protest again, Davey was out the door waving at her through the glass. "I swear, Davey Richards will be the end of me," she mumbled under her breath. "Sorry, where were we?" Her green eyes were on him again. "Oh. Yes. He'd rather have died than been without her."

"Which he did," Theodore said as they fell back into their conversation as if Davey had not just been there.

"Oh," she exclaimed, rolling her eyes, "not of his own accord."

"Friend of yours?"

"Pardon?"

"The man with the coffee."

She laughed. "Davey." She pressed her elbows to the counter. "Davey's the brother of a girl I used to pal around with when I was a kid. His sister and I still talk, she moved, Davey stayed. He works at the port."

"Ah."

She frowned, pushing away from the counter. "I don't have any books for you," she told him with a shrug. "Well, not with me anyway. Sorry."

Theodore was astonished at the wave of disappointment that washed over him at her statement. He hadn't come for a book, at least he hadn't thought that he had. However, the wave that swept over him said something different. He'd actually wanted her to present him with another book, another _muggle_ book. He lowered his eyebrows, letting them knit together as this realization settled on him. He'd wanted her _muggle_ book. He exhaled through his nose and she brought her eyes up to him. One of her thin eyebrows arched, giving her face a curious expression.

"What?"

Theodore cleared his throat, his face relaxing. He had intended for her to see his expression. "Are you," the corners of her lips turned upward. "You wanted me to have another book for you."

"No," he told her. "I did not."

She smiled. "You are."

Theodore moved away from the counter, backing away from her. His blue eyes never leaving her. "I just came to return your book." He turned over his shoulder and started towards the door.

"Oi," she called. "I know that you said no, but I'm going to invite you again. The beach, bonfire, next Saturday." Her words were rushed so that he couldn't interrupt her while she was speaking. He glanced over his shoulder, her green eyes twinkling at him from behind the counter. "Seven."

"No."

She rolled her eyes and waved him off. "Off with you then."

* * *

Theodore tried to ignore her offer. Every time her soft voice would find its way to him, he would try to drown it out. He'd occupy himself with other things. He'd reread his books. At this point, he was sure that he was an expert at dragon breeding and the incubation period of eggs, all of the different kinds of eggs.

No matter how hard he tried, her voice, and her offer, slipped into his head. _The beach, bonfire, seven._ It was maddening. He'd sit down to read, and then her voice and her offer was there. He'd taken to cooking again, to distract himself. However, this was a skill that had not improved. He still managed to burn everything.

He'd also taken to trying to make coffee again. Going to the Corner Café wasn't exactly in the cards at the moment. If he couldn't keep her voice, her offer, from echoing in his head, how was he going to see her, where she would be inviting him again. Coffee making. Also, not a skill that he had managed to get better at.

By the end of the week, he was back to eating toast and slightly burned eggs.

Of course, by the start of the next week, he was so fed up with the toast, less burned eggs, he'd gotten better at making eggs, and lumpy coffee. Tired of food that was hardly edible, he ventured out to a diner. He'd had coffee, which was admittedly better than anything he could make but not as good as the _muggle_ girls coffee. He'd had a blueberry muffin; not as good as the muffin top from the café with the _muggle_ girl. He'd order pancakes as well.

It only took a few days for him to tire of food at the diner, and the coffee that wasn't quite as smooth as the coffee at the Corner Café. When the waitress would come up to him at the table, she asked what she could get for him. However, as she asked him what she could get, he heard in the background, _"Coffee, black or Earl Grey?"_ The waitress always had a nasally voice, and surprisingly enough her voice was at a frequency that grated his nerves, made him clench his fist on his lap.

* * *

Saturday.

Her voice, her offer, had gotten louder and louder, as the day approached. As if she were standing in the room with him, leaning on the doorframe, or sitting next to him.

 _Saturday. Bonfire. The Beach. Seven._

It had become nearly impossible to bury the sound of her echoing offer with trivial tasks like making coffee or trying to not burn eggs for breakfast. He'd even tried to learn how to do laundry with that machine for washing. It had helped, in a way. It resulted in a mess that he had to spend all day cleaning up, without magic and with a mop. By the time he had completed the task of drying the floor, the clock read 6:45.

Theodore collapsed onto the leather sofa. Arms falling by his side.

"What I wouldn't kill for a house elf," he mumbled under his breath as he exhaled slowly. He relaxed his head on the back of the sofa and closed his icy eyes. The quiet hum of the HVAC unit met his ears.

 _The beach. Bonfire. Seven._

Theodore wrenched his eyes open. The damn _muggle_ girl's voice, _Olivia._ He stood from the sofa and started up the stairs to the bathroom. He yanked on the faucet in the shower and let the hot water start to run. The sound of the water hitting the porcelain tub was deafening for a moment, seeing as it was the only sound in the house with the exception of the hum of the HVAC. He pulled off his clothes, the knees of his pants wet from the catastrophe with the machine for washing.

 _The beach._

As soon as the water made contact with his skin, her words hit him. Merlin's Soul. He groaned closing his eyes. Why did he keep hearing her voice? Why did he keep hearing her request for him to be there? He sighed, wetting the washcloth.

Did he want to go?

He scoffed.

Of course not. He didn't have any desire to go to that _muggle_ outing. He had no desire to spend his Saturday evening with the _muggles,_ the incompetent creatures that he had stuck himself in the middle of. He had no desire to see the _muggles._

Stepping out of the shower, he frowned wrapping the towel around his waist.

 _The beach. Seven._

"Merlin's bloody beard!" he exclaimed as he slammed his palms on the bathroom counter. Rolling his eyes in the most annoyed manner he could, he stormed out of the bathroom.

He dressed quickly in a pair of black pants and a black shirt. After buttoning the last button, he continued his storming as he moved down the stairs and then to the coat closet to grab a jacket. He stood in the entryway, holding the jacket in his hands.

What was he doing?

He made a motion to place the jacket back on the hanger. He had no reason to go to this, whatever it was. He had no reason to go.

 _The beach. Seven. Bonfire._

"Damn it," he hissed as he stomped out of the door, slamming the door behind him.

If he didn't go, her voice would plague him.

* * *

 **A/N:** It's kind of a cliffhanger, right? Yeah, that was not my intent; I just didn't want to mix together scenes and make the chapter forever long. Trust me, I'm good for doing a 6,000-word chapter and trying to find somewhere to cut it and of course failing at it. So… the next chapter? That should be fun! Leave a review and let me know what you think!

 **~ Nikki**


	8. Chapter 8

Theodore trudged down the street, dragging his feet as he moved. The sidewalk was mostly empty. He passed an older couple or two as he walked. Both women walking with their husbands offered him a soft smile as they strolled past him. He shifted his gaze away from the women, looking down at the cracks in the pavement, only lifting his icy gaze when he was sure that they were gone.

The closer he got to the beach, the slower he walked; his feet dragging on the pavement. The smell of seawater floated to his nose. Seawater and the scent of burning wood. Before the water came into view, music greeted his ears. His hands clenched in his pockets as he heard the music, _muggle_ music. The boy frowned as he kept walking, even slower than he had been before. He tilted his head down to look at his watch, _7:25._ He could turn around now. He could just turn around and go home. His lip curled; he'd already gotten this close, he could literally smell it.

The wizard stood on the concrete walkway, elbows pressed to the railing. He'd decided that he had better get a look at the event to see if it was worth his time. He stood slightly off to the side, hoping to go unnoticed. He just wanted to watch.

The _muggles_ were sitting around the fire, laughing with one another and shouting across the fire. They were seated on towels or beach chairs. Some were settled in the sand. There were couples, sitting on towels together shoulders touching or sitting with the woman on the man's lap. Groups of friends were close to one another, laughing or moving towards the dark water. A girl squealed at the cold water as it washed over her feet before running back towards the fire and to the security of her friends.

Icy eyes panned across the crowd, watching. A set of green eyes caught his attention. He looked back toward the eyes. Green eyes were accompanied by copper-colored hair and freckles. The _muggle_ girl from the shop. The corners of her lips were turned upward as she laughed at something that was said to her, the corners of her eyes crinkling. She placed one of her small hands on the person's shoulder next to her and she said something, laughing again. He watched her, blue eyes on her. Until her vibrant green eyes looked in his direction. He suddenly felt very exposed. He thought that he was well hidden, but she could see him; couldn't she? She looked away without any sign that she saw him. He exhaled slowly, before stepping away from his place and walking down the walkway.

Her eyes were on him again, and this time he was sure that she saw him. She smiled and her eyes glinted in the fire. The _muggle_ girl moved away from her friends. Her bare feet sifting through the sand and she walked towards him. She placed her hands on the railing looking up at him.

"Well, well, I'll admit that I am thoroughly surprised to see you here," she told him, her voice holding a sing-song tone.

"Yes."

Theodore looked down at her. He'd only ever seen her outside of her work uniform once, and he hadn't paid her any attention then. However, it wasn't as if he paid her a lot of attention when she was in her work uniform either. If he had to guess, he would say that she wore black bottom and a black shirt, maybe navy… or white. He didn't pay it much attention. Tonight, she wore a light grey zippered jacket and a pair of those _muggle_ jeans. Her toes squished in the sand.

"Yes, you're surprised to be here?"

"Yes."

She nodded. "Come down." Her slender finger pointed to the staircase leading from the walkway and walking towards it, forcing him to follow her if he wanted to continue the conversation with her. He moved with her. "This the first time you've come to the beach here?"

He looked down at her. "No. You ran into me on the walkway before."

The copper haired girl laughed. "That's right; I ripped a hole in my pants." She pointed to her knee to make sure that he knew what she meant. Theodore stopped at the top of the stairs as she stood at the bottom. "Are you gonna come down?" she teased.

"LIV!" a girl's voice shouted.

"Just a second, okay?" the barista called back without looking away from Theodore.

"You can go," he told her, gesturing over his shoulder. "I should head home." He was suddenly very aware of all the _muggles_ at this event.

Her thin eyebrows lowered, before she moved up the stairs and grabbed the sleeve of his jacket. He cringed under her touch as she pulled him down the stairs. He stumbled behind her, not expecting to have her pulling on him. "Nonsense," she declared as he stood on the soft sand. She released him, her small hand finding its way into the pocket of her jacket. "Come to the fire. We are all about to go for a swim. You don't have to go though, you can stay and guard our stuff." That should have been a request, but the way she said it was more of a statement, as if she were telling him.

Before he could counter her, she had started walking away from him gesturing for him to follow her. And he did; dragging his feet.

"Liv," the owner of the voice called to the copper-haired girl. She looked over her shoulder. "Oh. You have a friend. Hi, Liv's friend! I'm Amanda."

Theodore's muscles tensed. _Her friend_? Did he look like he was her _friend_? He glanced over at the _muggle_ girl from the café and how close she was standing. While she was no longer touching him, she was still close, giving the impression of friendship. He took a half step away from her.

"He's a guy that I know from the café," she said as she took a seat next to her friend on a towel. She gestured for Theodore to sit next to her, patting the space beside her with her small hand as she looked at her friend, a smile on her lips.

Theodore looked down at the towel, covered in bits of sand. He scowled at it as if it had offended him. His icy eyes settled on the towel before he slowly, hesitantly and reluctantly, lowered himself down onto it. He sat with his back perfectly straight and his knees folded in an uncomfortable position. It was quite possible that he looked as out of place as he felt.

"Do you know if Davey is here?" the barista's friend asked. The copper-haired girl gestured over her shoulder before leaning forward to brush sand off a shell that was just in front of the towel. "Know if he's still seeing Camille?"

"They were never together," the barista answered, looking at the shell in the firelight. "They went on one date and you acted as if the world were ending."

"Well, what did he say about her?"

"Nothing that would be of use to you," she replied as she tucked the shell into her pocket.

"She's terrible, isn't she?" the friend asked.

It took a moment for Theodore to register that she'd been asking him a question. These _muggles_ were so chatty. Before it became obvious that he was ignoring her, the barista spoke. "I'm quite wonderful, thanks."

Her friend stuck her tongue out at her as she stood from the towel, walking in the direction that the barista had gestured in.

"Haven't seen you at the café in a while," she told him, looking at him from the corner of her eye. "I have a book for you."

"Ah," he grunted.

"That's normally when someone would ask what book I had."

"And?"

"It's a kid's book."

"No."

"It's my favorite."

"No."

Her green eyes rolled as she sighed. "Fine. I'll go get another adult book from home and swap it out." He nodded, effectively ending that vein of conversation. "You ever been to a bonfire?"

"No."

"Don't strike me as the type."

Silence came over them. Everyone around them shouted and laughed, but they were quiet. Him sitting awkwardly on his knees and heels and her sifting through the sand with her fingers. She looked as if she wanted to say something, chewing on the corner of her lip with that sharp canine tooth.

"Lose the jacket, Liv!" her friend shouted as she ran back up to her, no longer in a shirt but a swim suit top. Theodore shifted his gaze.

From the corner of his eye, he could see the girl from the café shrugging the jacket off her shoulders. The freckles on her nose were also on her shoulders and across her back. They were equally as light on her shoulders and back as they were on her nose. Her arms were toned, but slim. The skin of her torso was a warm beige. He realized that the color of her torso was obviously the same tone as the one on her face; he'd just never noticed. He looked away from her completely as she stood from the towel to shimmy out of her pants.

"Theodore!" she said, forcing him to look up at her. She had long legs, toned like her arms. "Watch my stuff?"

"Er-"

"Thank you."

She didn't let him reply before she and the other _muggle_ girl ran off towards the dark water with the other _muggles._ The muscles in her thighs flexed and relaxed as she ran. Another _muggle,_ a male, counted down from ten and by the time he reached five everyone was counting.

Four.

The _muggle_ girl from the café laughed with her friend; their hands clasping.

Three.

They took a tiny step towards the water, giggling as the cold ocean water washed over their feet.

Two.

The _muggle_ girl from the café looked as if she wanted to back away. However, her friend held her in place; tightening her grip on her hand.

One.

All the muggles charged at the water before jumping into an oncoming wave. The girlish shrieks grated his nerves and his hand fisted against his leg. Their laughter was loud. Even after the wave broke over them, their shrieks and giggles continued. Girls started to move out of the water walking back toward the fire. The _muggle_ girl from the café and her friend among them.

He looked down at the towel where her jacket was. The shell that she had collected from the sand had fallen out of the pocket, lying on the towel. He picked it up, holding it in his hand as their feet came into view. He closed his fist around it.

Her copper hair was stuck to her shoulders as was her swim suit top; a navy swim top. She crossed her arms over her chest, rubbing her hands on her wet arms. Her _muggle_ friend had her arm on her shoulders, laughing as they approached.

"I'll see you in a second?" the friend asked.

"Course!"

The barista walked up to where she left him. Leaning down, she grabbed her jacket and pulled it on. "What was that?" He his tone uninterested.

"We like to get together at the start of August and just celebrate the end of Summer," she told him with a shrug. He watched the muscles in her shoulders flex and relax as she did.

"You're not going to dry off?"

She tilted her head to the side. "That's why the fire is here." She moved to peel her hair off her shoulder. "Come sit with us."

"I-"

"I'll keep Amanda away, she's just easily excited. Everyone else is calm. Although, you might have to tell some of them your name," she teased.

"I should go," he said as he stood, pushing his hands into his pants.

She pulled her jacket close to her as the wind blew. "Alright; I'll walk you back to the stairs then." She looked as if she wanted to say something else, but decided against it.

The wizard looked as if he wanted to say no, but she started off in the direction that they came from. "I don't need you to escort me," he told her, not moving from his spot in the sand.

She looked over her shoulder. The light of the fire placing a warm hue on her skin and making her hair look more red than its brown color. The freckles on her nose seemed to be darker. "I have to make sure you at least leave here okay. You're my guest after all." She smiled.

Theodore watched her, standing with her hands in her pockets and watching him from over her shoulder. "Right," he mumbled under his breath as he moved towards her. Persistent _muggle_ girl.

"Glad you see it my way."

"You don't give anyone much of a choice."

"Nonsense. You could have gone to sit at the bonfire with the guitarist," she countered. He visibly flinched. She laughed. "George isn't a great guitarist. He tries though. Always a little flat," she informed.

"Sound painful."

The barista shrugged. "It can be. Once he starts asking for requests, we generally turn the radio up louder." There was a smile on her lips, showing that she didn't mean any harm by her statement.

"Right."

They approached the staircase, and a look of surprise crossed over her green eyes. "Aw, I lost my shell," she said with a soft sigh. "I liked that one."

Theodore's eyebrow knitted together. Her shell? Oh, right. He removed his hand from his pocket and presented the shell to her, in his open palm. Her green eyes glinted in the moonlight. "It fell out of your pocket when you went to frolic in the ocean."

She picked the shell up from his hand. As she did her fingertips brushed over his open palm. He was surprised by the warmth of her fingertips, despite the fact that she'd just gotten out of the ocean and she was still wet. His icy eyes fell to where she'd touched him. The path that her fingertips had taken now had an unfamiliar sensation. He clenched his fist and tucked it back into his pocket. He brought his eyes up to her. She'd tucked the shell back into her jacket pocket.

"Thank you."

"Yeah."

"So, when will you be around the café?" she questioned, rocking back and forth on her feet.

"Don't know," he said with a shrug as he started up the stairs out of the sand. The unfamiliar feeling still on his hand. He clenched his fist tighter, hoping the pressure would ease the sensation, one that he was able to place as a tingling. Had she put something on his hand? Was she, this girl that he assumed was a _muggle_ , a wizard? An Auror sent to find him.

"Sometime next week?"

"Don't know," he echoed. No. She wasn't an Auror. An Auror wouldn't have put a potion on his hand. No. They would have cast some sort of binding spell. And they wouldn't have waited weeks to do so. No. She wasn't of his world. So, what was this tingling? He removed his hand to look at it again. Nothing was overtly wrong with it. Yet, the tingling. Granted, it had started to lessen.

"Hey!"

She was holding on to the railing and looking up at him.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for coming."

Theodore looked down at her. Green eyes dancing with a smile, the same one that was on her lips. Looking down at her, that sensation that had been in his hand, spread through his body in an intense but short burst. He stepped away from her, startled by the sensation and its intensity. He turned from her, walking down the walkway. "You're welcome," he said, "Olivia."

Her name slipped off his tongue.

When he realized what he had done, used her _muggle_ name, he looked at her over his shoulder. Icy eyes meeting her green ones. Her eyes held the same surprised that he was sure he felt. However, they recovered quickly; glinting with a smile as she backed away from the railing and started back toward the bonfire.

This _muggle_ girl. He'd not only remembered her name, but he'd used it. Actually, called her her name. Even if it was added as some sort of an afterthought. He'd gone to school with people for seven years, slept in the same dorm as them, had classes with them, and never called them their names. Yet, this _muggle…_

* * *

 **A/N:** Hi! -gasp- He said her name! I hadn't been using her name, because Theo hadn't decided to acknowledge it, constantly thinking of her as the _muggle_ girl. So now that he's acknowledged it, used it, I can too! Which makes my life _so_ much easier. Anywho. I'm slowly working in interaction with other people for Theodore. Davey and Amanda will definitely be back, as well as some other muggles. And now, we can rally get to know Olivia, so there's something to look forward to. Let me know what you think in a review!

 **~ Nikki**


	9. Chapter 9

Theodore Nott hadn't been to the Corner Café in several days, four to be exact. On the morning of the fifth day, he woke up and made himself breakfast. He'd gotten significantly better at the task. He no longer burned the toast in the toaster, when it popped out of the toaster it was no longer a charred black color instead it was the same shade of golden brown that it was when his house elf presented it to him. The eggs were no longer some odd mix of runny and burned, instead they were more firm. Coffee on the other hand, he hadn't quite figured out. Sometimes it was too watered down, not enough coffee, even though he liked his coffee black, there were times when it was too strong. If he hadn't been avoiding going to the café, he could have had one of _her_ cups of smooth, black coffee.

The corner of his lip curled as the thought of _her_ coffee crossed his mind. He pressed his elbows against the counter near the sink after he'd placed his plate in the sink. Of course, he would think of _her_ coffee when his was so lackluster. He ran his fingers through his dark hair and pushed away from the counter, leaving the plate and cup of watery coffee in the sink, he walked towards the front door. Pulling open the entry closet, he grabbed a pair of his shoes and slipped them on. Just because he wasn't going to the Corner Café didn't mean that he couldn't go out.

With his hands in their usual place, shoved deep into his pockets, he made his way down the street. The area had become very familiar to him. He knew where the dips were in the sidewalk and where the water pooled when it rained. He knew when the older couple a few houses down let their dog out and came to check the post. He tried his best to be long gone before they did, the woman that lived that was quite chatty. He'd timed it quite well, today, by the time that he heard the dog barking, he was turning a corner.

As he made his was by the window of the bookstore, something caught his eye. Not in the window, but on the street. One of those two-wheeled speed machines, bikes as the muggles called them, zoomed by. He'd become highly sensitive to them, since they had been such a nuisance to him when he first got to Blackpool. However, this time it wasn't the bike that caught his attention, but what was on it. Copper colored hair blowing in the wind.

 _Her._

His eyes followed her on the bike as she pedaled down the street, before making a left. A left? That was odd, the Corner Café was straight down this street. Which meant she wasn't going to the café. This interested him, for a reason unknown to glanced into the bookstore through the window. He'd come to find some sort of quiet, outside of his home, however there were children in the store. While they seemed to be sitting quietly at the moment, they looked as if they could start making a ruckus at any moment. Running around and laughing, as he'd found that _muggle_ children do. His icy eyes turned away from the bookstore as he continued down the road, taking a left.

He had never been down this road; he'd never had a need. It wasn't much different from the other streets; the same brick ran along this building as the others. It was the same. He noted that the bike she had zoomed by on was leaning against the brick; a blue bike. He walked to it, stopping outside of the establishment. Surprise crossed through his icy eyes as he saw what was inside. Pianos. A music store. He took a step back, looking up at the name of the shop: _Blackpool Music Academy._ Music? He peeked into the window again, now seeing her copper hair at one of the pianos near the window. Her fingers were moving through pages on the piano and her lips were moving, speaking to someone that he couldn't see. The corner of her lips turned upward, smiling, at the person that she couldn't see. Green eyes fell on the pages before her and she placed her hands together almost as if praying, but she separated her thumbs and pressed her fingers together. The way she clenched and unclenched her hands afterward, he recognized that her previous action had been her cracking her fingers. Through the window, he watched her fingers on the keys. Slow, deliberate motions with one hand, then the other, then both. She brought her eyes up to the pages in front of her, adjusting them and then placing all ten fingers on the keys. Her fingers started to move on the keys.

Theodore watched.

Her fingers sliding across the keys in an effortless manner. Green eyes focused in on the sheet in front of her. He could see her playing, but it was muted due to the glass between them. He found himself wondering if she could play well.

Her green eyes flicked over to the window briefly. Their eyes met of the briefest of moments as hers moved from one line to the other. Her fingers faltered on the keys and from the expression on her face, the sound that followed was less than pleasant. Wrinkles formed on the bridge of her nose as she scrunched it. Instead of looking at him in the window fully, her gaze returned to the keys and the page of music before her.

"Oi."

Theodore pulled his eyes away from the window and towards the sound. An older woman standing in the doorway. Grey hair pulled back and thick glasses covering her eyes. The sounds of _her_ playing filtered out of the open door. The song she was playing sounded oddly familiar. He was sure that he'd heard it before.

"No loitering, if you want a lesson come in."

He frowned before opening his mouth to speak.

"Ms. Emma," _her_ voice said over the piano's music.

"Yes?"

"He's a friend, who is welcome to come in if he likes," she continued.

The woman in the doorway looked at him through narrowed eyes. "If you're a friend of Liv's, then you must not be as bad as you look." With that, the woman turned away from him and went back inside, letting the door shut behind her.

Theodore scoffed. Who did that woman think that she was? Telling him that he had to leave? He rolled his icy eyes, before turning over his shoulder to walk back down the street and towards the bookstore. However, his eyes fell on the door, the entrance to the music school. He found himself wandering about her playing. How well she could play. And the song. While he couldn't hear it anymore, he could still hear it playing somewhere in the vaults of his memory. If bothered him that he knew this song, but couldn't place it. Which meant, it was a _muggle_ song. He pulled the door open, more roughly than necessary but enough to show that he had _not_ wanted to come into the shop.

"Good afternoon," _her_ voice greeted as her fingers struck a chord, before gliding across the keys again.

"The song."

She was quiet as she continued to play. The melody that he'd heard through the door reappearing, the same one that he had in his head. Quiet, but powerful. An expressive piece. Flowing and smooth. There was a slight jarring, rushing of the notes on her right hand following a split moment of hesitation before her fingers moved over the keys. That aside, everything else was fluid. Serene. And then it was over.

She shifted in her seat to face him, bright green eyes falling on him and her hands falling on her lap. "What about the song?"

"What is it?"

A mischievous glint passed through her eyes as a smirk played on her lips. "I've told you before," was her reply.

"Have you?" he asked. He could feel the corner of his lips twitching upward, his lips curling into a smirk to match hers.

This might have been the first time he realized that he did enjoy their banter. It made him feel almost at home. Almost like he was sitting in the common room with Pansy, who he took great pleasure in annoying, or Draco, who's skin it was much too easy to get under.

"I have."

The smirk stayed on her lips. She looked positively… He stopped his train of thought immediately. No. No, she didn't. She'd never look that way.

"At the café," she said, her head tilting to the side as she spoke. Green eyes still hoping that mischievous glint.

"Ah."

Theodore tried not to look as if he was thinking too hard. However, he was searching his mind, trying to find when it was that she had told him. He filtered through the memories, countless ones, of her asking coffee, black or Earl Grey. Sifted through the conversations that they had had about the books she'd given him. He was nearing his wits end, when

 _"That song," he mumbled under his breath. "What are you humming?"_

 _"Clair de Lune," she answered. "Are we asking questions now?"_

 _"No," he told her. "I just wanted to know the name of the song."_

"Clair de Lune," he said quietly, hoping that she wouldn't hear him. However, they were the only two people speaking, actually they were the only things making a sound in the room. After she'd stopped playing, the air had grown very silent and impossibly still.

Her green eyes danced. "Yes. Clair de Lune." With that, she turned on the stool to face the piano again, placing her fingers on the keys. She picked up somewhere in the middle of the song. The music she started on was strong but still quiet. It took a moment for him to realize, but she was playing the part of the song that she was humming in the restaurant. It sounded much better on the piano than it did with her humming it. However, it did seem to be a difficult part of the song to hum. The notes all seemed to happen at the same time and all in different places. "Quite a pretty song, no?" she let her hands fall to her lap again.

"Quite," he agreed.

Her green eyes fell on him as she looked at him over her shoulder. "I have a book for you," she said. She lifted her arms over her head, stretching. Her shirt lifted slightly, exposing the warm beige hue of her skin. It reminded him of the bonfire. Which reminded him of the reason that he had been avoiding the café.

That tingling in his hand. The one that didn't disappear until he was halfway home. He tucked his hands deeper into his pockets, hiding them. "Do you?" he replied, a tension in his voice.

Slender fingers reached into a black backpack on the floor next to the piano bench, when they retreated from the bag they held a small book. " _Charlotte's Web._ I know you said no to it, but I don't care. It's my favorite," she held it out to him. "Take it, read it."

"It's a children's book," he countered. However, he removed his hand from his pocket and took the book from her careful not to touch her; a pig and a little girl were on the cover.

"Children's books can teach us a lot," she replied. "Where do you think children learn things?"

"School, parents," he listed off as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"And books," she finished. "Read the book and then you can tell me how much you hated it." She glanced upward and pushed away from the piano, lowering the cover as she did. "Thank you, Miss. Emma."

"When are you going to play for someone that's not me or the kids," the older woman called to her.

The freckles stood out against her skin a little more, and he realized that she was blushing. Her eyes were downcast as she twisted the strap of her bag between her fingers. This was the first time he'd seen her not smiling. The first time he'd seen her look shy. "Miss. Emma. I'm not-"

Something flew across the room, hitting her arm. She flinched, bringing her hand to her arm to rub the place where the item had hit her. She shifted her gaze in the direction that the item had come from. The older woman was standing in a doorway, shaking her head disapprovingly.

"You'll never get better if you only play for me," she scolded.

"I played for Theodore," she said, gesturing to the other person in the room.

"You," the woman pointed to the wizard, "boy, what did you think?"

"Pardon?"

"Of her playing. You're her friend, what do you think?"

She'd shifted her gaze away from the older woman, Miss. Emma, and to the ground. He could see her green eyes shifting from him and a spot on the floor. What did he think? He rocked back onto his heels and looked from her to the older woman. "Er," he said, before clearing his throat.

"It's not a difficult question, son," the older woman said, irritation in her voice.

His icy gaze fell on the barista again. Her bottom lip had found its way between her canine teeth. Her eyes had lifted slightly, focused on a spot on the wall. Her cheeks had reddened a bit more, her blush had changed from a light coral color to a pink one. This was why he needed to stop hanging around this _muggle_ girl. She always seemed to bring him around more _muggles_ ones that were less intelligent than she and didn't know when to leave well enough alone. This, her skill level on piano, was none of his concern. He could have just walked out of the establishment and left her there. While her playing wasn't his problem, he found himself… wanting to answer. He should not have cared about it, her frowning instead of smiling and her bubbly personality now under a shroud of something bordering near insecurity, but he almost felt like he did. He frowned, watching her through his blue eyes. "Her playing is satisfactory," he answered.

Her green eyes flicked over towards him, the brightness returning to her eyes, and the corners of her lips turned upward.

"Satisfactory?" the older woman scoffed. "Some friend you have there, Olivia."

The barista laughed, turning on her heel and walking towards the door. As she did, she gently gripped the fabric of Theodore's jacket, taking him with her. Theodore tensed, hand clenching around the book in it. The last time she'd touched him, his skin had tingled. Apparently, the fabric between them kept that feeling away. "I think so, Miss. Emma."

It wasn't until they were outside, and she dropped her hand from his arm, that he realized that she had still been holding the fabric of his jacket. He'd allowed her to touch him. He stopped in his tracks, just outside the door of the building. He looked at the place on his jacket where she'd grabbed him. There was nothing on his jacket to show that she'd had touched him. No filthy fingerprint.

"Theodore."

Her voice pulled him from his thoughts. When he looked up at her she was holding her bike by the handles. A blue bike with a tweed basket on the front. "Yes?"

"Coffee, black or Earl Grey?" she asked as she started walking.

In order to answer her, he had to follow her. So he did. "What?"

"I'm going to work now," she answered. "So coffee or tea?"

"Who says I'm coming with you?"

"Do you have any other plans?" she questioned, looking over at him with her bright eyes.

He was caught off guard. "Er, no." Honestly, he wasn't sure what he was going to do if he hadn't seen her zooming down the street. The bookstore was still very much so out of the question.

"So you can sit there and read and complain to me in real time about hating the book," she said, playfully. "Haven't seen you around in a few days."

She'd noticed. Of course, she did. She didn't give the impression of someone who wouldn't notice someone she called a friend missing from the day-to-day routine. And his appearances at the café had become a daily event. He would always end up there, whether he intended to or not. There were days where he did, intend to that is, to take her her book back, but other times he really did just end up on that corner.

Before he could respond, they were there, approaching the Corner Café. "Go in, tell Jimmy what you want."

With that, she turned her bike down the alley behind the café. He sighed and turned the corner before entering the café.

"Welcome to the Corner Café," a boy behind the counter greeted. He was younger than him, lanky. "What can I start for you?"

"Earl Grey," he told the boy as he walked to his usual place.

It was odd to not be greeted by the copper haired barista. She was always there when he arrived. He was sure that she wasn't the only employee of the café, it would have been silly to think that she was the only employee, but she was the one that was always there when he walked in. He hadn't been greeted with 'Welcome to the Corner Café' in months. It was always 'Theodore' or 'What did you think about the book?' or 'Coffee, black or Earl Grey, Theodore'. And as much as he didn't want to admit it, as much as he hated to admit it, the latter was his favorite greeting.

"Jimmy?"

"Liv."

Theodore looked at her reflection in the glass. She was standing in the doorway, pulling her hair into a ponytail. She then grabbed an apron, a navy one off a hook. Easily she pulled it over her head and began to tie it behind her back. She then approached the boy. "Earl Grey today, Theodore?" she questioned.

"Yes."

She placed her hand on the boy's shoulder. "You can head out. I'll take it from here. You have that meeting at the school, right? For the scholarship to university?"

The boy smiled and blushed as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, Liv. I didn't think you would remember that."

"Why wouldn't I?" She placed a tea bag into the cup. "Good luck, yeah?"

"Have a good afternoon, Liv," Jimmy said as he hooked his apron and started out the front door. "And thank you!"

She chuckled as he ran out of the door and she made her way towards the table Theodore was sitting at. "Earl Grey," she said as she placed it on the table. She moved away from him, Theodore's icy gaze followed her in the window. "May I ask you a question?"

He answered before he knew what he was saying. "Yes." _Merlin's Beard_. He almost dropped the spoon that he was holding. What was he thinking?

She looked just as shocked as he did. "Really?"

Slowly he placed the spoon back on the saucer. "Apparently so," he mumbled under his breath. He brought the cup to his lips. "What?" he asked before taking a sip.

"You have family?" she asked, leaning on the counter.

He frowned. "Yes. I do."

"Back in Bristol."

"Yes."

"Care to elaborate?"

"Not really."

No, he did not care to elaborate. That would mean that he would have to think about his family. His father, who he was certain would have been tried and placed in Azkaban at this point. His mother, who probably missed him dearly and was desperate to find him. His friends. Draco, a friend who he had no idea where he was. If he was in London, he surely had been taken. Blaise, he had probably managed to escape the search. His only true crime was being a Slytherin close to Draco Malfoy.

She looked at him through her bright green eyes. "You're closer to your mum?" she said. He couldn't tell if it was a statement that turned into a question or if she had been just asking him about it.

He lowered the cup to the saucer. "Yes," he answered. He took the spoon and stirred the beverage in the cup. "My mother and I are close," he said.

"Your father?" she said.

Theodore's eyes met hers in the window. She was biting down on her bottom lip, curiosity forming in her eyes. "My father and I are not so close." After all, his father was the reason that he had gotten as involved with the Dark Lord as he did.

She tilted her head to the side, looking at him. "Me and my mum, we are close too. My dad and I," she shrugged, "are fine."

He brought the cup to his lips. He felt the question forming on his lips and he took a drink of the beverage to keep it at bay. He hoped that he had swallowed the question with the tea but when he placed the cup back on the saucer it was still there. He rolled his icy eyes. "Fine?" _Why_? Why did he have to asked her that?

"Yeah, we're fine. He's, uh, actually getting married in November."

"Married?"

"Yes.

She looked as if she didn't want to talk about the topic anymore. Her gaze kept shifting and she was fiddling with her thumbs. He frowned and looked over at her, facing her.

"I see," he replied. She still looked highly uncomfortable. He frowned looking at her. Her discomfort radiated across the room, making him feel odd. He shifted in his seat as he looked at her. He was hit with the sudden need to talk and ease _her_ discomfort. Not his, _hers._ He cleared her throat. "The book," he said, tapping it.

"It's good," she told him. "Friendship between two unlikely characters. Just," she gestured towards him, "read it."

"Now?"

"I'll be quiet and read something of my own," she told him, producing the copy of _The Great Gatsby_ from underneath the counter. She walked towards him, holding the book between her fingers. "It's, uh, a pretty quiet time in the day. May I join you?" she questioned, gesturing towards the empty seat across from him.

Theodore watched her, through the steam coming off of his tea. Freckles dancing across her nose and a soft smile on her lips. Her weight was back in her heels, her toes slightly off the ground. "May you?" He asked as if he needed clarification on what she was asking.

"Join you?" she clarified. "I will refill your tea as often as necessary," she added in a singsong voice.

He looked down at the tea and opened the book that she'd given him. Without a word, he gestured towards the chair across from him. He didn't look up as she settled into the chair across from him. Her foot brushed against his leg under the table as she crossed her legs. The touch was so quick that he had no time to flinch away from it.

The wizard looked over the top of his book. He was startled to see her green eyes looking at him from over the top of hers. The corners of her lips turned upward. Had she always had dimples? They were faint and soft, but there. Her eyes lowered from his and to the book in her hand. The smile still on her lips, and the soft dimples still in her cheeks.

Theodore would never admit to it, but this, sitting in a quiet café with this _muggle_ girl, _Olivia_ ¸ reading was nice.

* * *

 **A/N:** I am so sorry! It been a rough few weeks. I've been sick and school has been a huge pain in my ass. And to top it all off, I couldn't figure out how to write this chapter and where I wanted it to go and I swear, it's been a pain. I hope you enjoyed it! The same applies; leave me a review and let me know what you think!

 **~ Nikki**


	10. Chapter 10

Theodore woke with a start. The dream. It had been weeks since he'd had it last. The more time that passed between each occurrence of the dream, the more disorienting it was. For a split moment, he found himself completely unable to move, as if he were under some sort of binding spell. Slowly, the feeling started to fade away and he was able to sit up. Again, his hair was stuck to his forehead. His skin was soaked in cold sweat. He kept his icy eyes closed as he listened to his pounding heart and tried to make it slow. He inhaled deeply through his nose and exhaled sharply through his mouth, hoping this would help; and soon it did. Eventually, his heart rate did slow. By the time, he opened his eyes, his vision was in much better shape that it usually was. It only took a few moments for his peripherals to clear and center.

Snatching his robe off of the chair near the bed, he clinched it around himself. Sleep would not return after that. He made his way down the stairs and to the kitchen where he proceeded to make a cup of tea. Tea was in his skill set. With a shaky hand, he sat the teapot on the stovetop and turned it on. While the water boiled, he moved to get a cup and a bag of tea.

The sharp whistling of the tea kettle in the silent room startled him, so much so that he almost knocked the cup off the counter. He caught the cup by the handle as it started to fall off the counter. He stiffly turned towards the stove and turned it off. Steam greeted his face as he poured the water into the cup and over the tea bag. He watched as the water started to brown. Slowly.

He'd gotten too comfortable here. He'd let his guard down too much. The dream. It was a wake-up call. Something that was sent to remind him of why he was there. He was in hiding. He shouldn't be out, with the _muggles_ drinking coffee and listening to Clair de Lune. No. He shouldn't have been getting comfortable here. He should only have the necessities and be able to pack up and leave at a moment's notice. He had a coffee maker; a luxury, a non-necessity. He'd gotten too comfortable. No. Now his gut, his nerves, his instinct was telling him that, making sure that he knew. Being too comfortable here was a threat to his safety.

"Shit," he swore as the boiling water in the cup started to overflow onto his hand. He pulled his hand away from the cup as he lifted the kettle to the stovetop. The skin that had been exposed to the water was red and he sighed, taking the cup with him as he walked to the living room. On his way out, he poured a little off the top.

Theodore settled into the sofa in the living area, cradling the cup of tea in his hands. He relaxed back into the sofa, tipping the cup back. He could feel it coming, a headache forming at his temples. A headache didn't happen after every dream. Only when he was pulled from a deep sleep. Then the headache would come. Slowly creeping its way around his forehead until it had a vice-like grip on his head. He tried to fight it off with the tea but it didn't seem to be working. Placing the cup on a coaster, he lay his head on the back of the sofa and closed his eyes. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, hoping the pressure would help alleviate the pain. He exhaled through his lips taking his hands off his eyes after realizing it wasn't helping.

Icy eyes remained closed. The soft hum on the air conditioning unit was the only sound in the house. The quiet swishing of the air through the vents was like a lullaby. Softly pushing fresh air through the house. Soothing. Sleep wouldn't come, no. But some type of restless, sleep-like state would. And that is what he let the air conditioning lull him into.

 _Theodore stumbled, his foot getting caught under something on the ground. Unable to regain his balance, he fell using his hands to take the impact of his fall. Instead of his hands hitting something firm, they continued falling into something wet. Water. The water splashed back into his eyes as his hands fell into it, coming to stop when the water was at his elbows. The sleeves of his cloak were soaked to his arms. Opening his eyes, he turned and looked over his shoulder towards the sounds behind him, all around him. He reached for his wand, turning and falling deeper into the water. The backs of his pants and cloak wet. Icy eyes scanned the area around him. The sounds of spell casting were so loud that he couldn't tell how close any of it was or where it was. All he knew was it was loud. It was overwhelming._

 _It was sharp, the pain. It came from nowhere and everywhere. The water he was in started to stain red. Icy eyes looked down. No sign of injury. However, the water around kept growing more and more red. His hands ghosted down his arms, nothing. However, there was a certain looseness in his shirt. He reached behind him, touching his back. Fingertips met frayed fabric and something wet. He pulled his fingers away and looked at them in the night. A deep red color. Blood._

 _His blood._

Theodore was jerked out of his sleep again. Icy eyes darting open. Twice in one night? His gut, instincts, nerves, whatever were trying to tell him something. He'd never had the dream twice in one night. Of course, it was rare that he even managed to find sleep after being awoken. A deep sigh passed through his lips as he stood. The cup of tea was cold now, the steam no longer floating off the top. He left it there as he made his way upstairs and to the bathroom. He hooked the robe on the hanger in the bathroom and started the water. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw it. A scar, long and pink against his olive skin, streaking from the bottom of his left shoulder blade to the right side of his lower back.

Proof that the dream wasn't just a dream.

* * *

Everything looked abnormal to Theodore. Everyone posed some sort of threat. That's what three hours of sleep and two dreams startling you awake would do for you. Make a person paranoid. Not that he wasn't already paranoid.

Every movement caused him to jump and on more than one occasion, he found himself reaching for his wand. The wand that wasn't there. The air conditioning turning off and on abruptly. The young boy that delivered the newspaper. The sound of the toast popping. Everything was a reason for alarm.

Being in a constant state of alarm was exhausting; physically and mentally. By the time noon rolled around he was completely drained. The muscles in his jaw were in a permanent state of clenched. The muscles in his right arm were taut, ready to reach across to get his wand, the one that wasn't there. He was wearing shoes and his muscles were tight, ready to run. Not only was he completely drained, he was starving. He'd meant to go to the shop, but the day he had planned to go it had rained and he had ditched the idea. So now he lacked food. Now he had to go out.

Sighing deeply, he left. He moved carefully down the street, but quickly. His eyes scanning everything. The woman at the end of the lane was checking her mail. Upon leaving the mailbox, she made a quick motion with her hand startling Theodore so much so that he jumped off the sidewalk. When he was sure that he was out of her line of vision, he stepped back onto the curb. Eyes still moving, taking in everything. The sound of footsteps approached him from behind. More than one set. Theodore clenched his hands in his pocket, his heart pounding. Suddenly, three _muggle_ children ran by him, brushing against him jarring his body. His muscles tensed again. Staring the children down as they moved around him. He stopped, settling his heart rate.

By the time, he reached the Corner Café, he was even more exhausted than before. The tinkling of the bell above the door startled him, making him step into the café quickly.

"Theodore, are you alright?" He sat down at the table by the window, more alert there than ever. His startled expression had caught her attention. "Theodore?"

He opened his mouth to order, but something caught his eye. A black cloak moving from the train station. Unfamiliar. His eyes locked on it as it moved closer. A black clock. A black figure. An Auror. He clenched his fist on his lap. Done. He was done.

"Theodore."

He hadn't noticed that she was still calling out to him until she placed her hand on his shoulder. Her slender fingers wrapping around his shoulder. Her small hand radiating heat into it. He hadn't realized he'd been cold until then. She placed a cup of tea in front of him. He saw it from his peripheral vision, but he never took his eyes off the cloak. The cloak moving closer and closer.

The cloaked figure removed its hood. Messy brown hair. Dark circles under dark eyes. A middle-aged woman. There was nothing overly magical about her. She was very plain. Very… pathetic. He released a breath that he had no idea that he had been holding in.

Theodore turned his gaze from the older woman and to the barista. Concern etched her green eyes. "Do you have a sandwich on the menu?"

"You have a preference?"

"Turkey and cheese on rye," he told her.

It was then that he realized that her hand was still on his shoulder. She gave a soft squeeze to his shoulder before letting her hand fall away as she walked through the door behind the counter. The space where her hand had been was still warm, but not as much as it was when she was touching him. It was a ghost of a sensation. His gaze was on the woman in the cloak again, watching as she continued down the road.

This was draining. He slouched forward, elbows on the table. Everyone was a threat. Despite the fact that this was a _muggle_ town. He couldn't let his guard down. Always vigilant.

"Turkey and cheese on rye," she said as she placed the plate on the table next to his tea. "Are you alright?"

When he didn't answer, she started to walk away. "Olivia," he said suddenly, his voice was loud in the quiet café. She looked startled as she turned back to face him. "Does she live around here?" he asked, gesturing to the woman in the cloak.

The barista looked at the woman walking in the lane and she frowned deeply. "Oh… Yes and no. Her husband, sent her to away. She's um, a junkie."

Theodore looked up at her reflection in the window. "Junkie?"

Her frown deepened. "She uh," she leaned down to speak. "We don't talk about it. Roslyn, that's her name. She's into smack." Her breath fluttered across his cheeks as she spoke. She took a step away from him. "Her husband told her to get help. She's been gone for a few months, I hope she's come back in a better state than when she left. She's got a little boy."

"Ah."

She tapped the plate the sandwich was on with a slender finger. "Eat, you're looking a little pale. You sure you're alright?" She moved her hand, the back of her hand approaching him. His hand moved before he could think about it. His larger hand closed around her slender wrist, making a loud slapping sound, stopping her hand inches away from his forehead. His icy eyes found hers in the glass. She looked startled. Her green eyes were wide. And that feeling. That tingling sensation. The one that radiated from the place he touched her and throughout his body. That feeling. He dropped his hand away from her wrist. "I, er, I'm sorry." She seemed to know exactly what she had done.

"No, I apologize," he sighed. "Olivia."

"Okay," she said, she started to back away from him. She looked flustered. "Well, if you need something…" She turned on her heel, moving back behind the counter where she picked up a rag and started to wipe down the surface.

Theodore ate in the silence. The sandwich she'd crafted was good. The bread was fresh, as far as he could tell. He couldn't be sure if it was due to the fact that he was so hungry or if it was actually good. He took a chance on the prior. The tea was different. He placed the cup on the saucer and looked over his shoulder at her. Confusion etching his expression.

"Chia tea with a hint of cinnamon and milk," Olivia told him without a prompt. "I figured that you would like a pick me up? But I can make something else.-"

He raised his hand to stop her. "It's," he picked the cup up again. "It just caught me off guard. It's different that's all." He turned away from her. He sighed. "Thank you."

"Of course."

"How much do I owe you?" he asked her.

"Three for the tea. The sandwich is seven. So ten pounds even," she told him

"Right," he mumbled.

"You sure you're alright?" she questioned, as she leaned on the wall behind the counter.

"I don't know," he answered quietly as he continued to look out of the window.

* * *

 **A/N** : Heya! So I hope you enjoyed this chapter. So we finally got a chance to see a _little_ of Theo's dream (I think there will be more), so that's exciting. I had a lot of fun writing that. Also we learned something else about Theo, right? His dream isn't just a dream, it's a memory. I forgot how much I liked writing paranoid everyone out to get me Theo, so we'll see more of that. So yeah, a lot of little stuff happening, right? Okay. Anyhow I hope that you enjoyed this chapter and you leave a review and tell me how much you loved it or if there's something you want to see happen. I have some ideas that I have gotten from some of your reviews; they're in my word document of ideas for this. So yeah, leave a review. Let me know what's up.

 **~ Nikki**


	11. Chapter 11

_Tap. Tap._

Theodore pulled his eyes away from the book he was reading in his office chair to look out of the window. His icy eyes fell on a pigeon, one pressing his beak against his window. He narrowed his eyes at the animal.

"Stupid thing," he said as he leaned back in the chair and tapped the window with the book he had been reading.

The bird flew away, startled, and Theodore turned his attention back to the book. He'd managed to make it three more pages before –

 _Tap. Tap. Tap._

Theodore turned in the chair and was greeted by the ruddy pigeon. He sighed, moving to tap the book against the window again, this time a bit harder, when he saw it. Something wrapped around the bird's leg.

"What?" he whispered to himself as he dropped the book on the floor and moved to open the window. He struggled with it for a moment, pulling at it in a way that was less than poised. Finally, it opened and he all but yanked the bird into the window, hoping not to be seen.

There, tied to the bird's left foot was a small piece of paper, parchment. He yanked the parchment off the bird, possibly too roughly, and then shoved the thing back outside of the window.

 _July 12_

 _T.N._

 _I hope this dirty creature finds you. I'm sure they are not as intelligent as owls, but hopefully this gets to you. I said, I'm more than certain this thing won't find you. They took D.M at the start of July. As you could expect his mother is completely distraught. She has been with us, mother has had her sedated for most the stay. I am safe for now; they seem to be uninterested in me. Things are tense as you could imagine, but are managing._

B.Z.

 _P.S. I don't expect to hear from you. No need to worry yourself with writing back._

 _P.P.S. Your mother misses you._

Theodore collapsed into his office chair before reading the letter again. And again. And once more. Shocked. Blaise had sent a ruddy pigeon to find him. Leave it to Blaise to find a pigeon and make it find him. A smirk crossed his lips.

"It only to the ruddy thing a month to find me," he mumbled under his breath.

Despite the nature of the letter, Theodore felt a sense of relief. For the first time since he left, he had heard something from the world that he'd come from. Granted, it wasn't particularly good news. However, it did seem to bring a sense of peace and a feeling something like happiness over him.

He took no pleasure in the torture that Draco was experiencing. He took no pleasure in the fact that their affiliation with the Dark Lord had pained their mother's so. However, he did take pleasure in knowing; in having knowledge. Even if it was just a bit of less than great news.

* * *

"No."

That was the first thing he heard when he walked into the Corner Café. In Olivia's voice. Had he ever heard her say no? No with such a harsh tone in her voice. In a way that made him stop in his tracks in the doorway. She was standing behind the counter with her arms loosely crossed over her chest, frowning. Her head was tilted to the side as she held something to her ear. It took him a moment to place it as a telephone, he'd seen so many of them since he arrived that it would have been foolish of him to not recognize it. Her index finger was wrapped up in the cord, the spirals twisting over her slender finger.

"The answer is still no."

Theodore approached the counter, quietly. Her thin eyebrows were drawn together, the space between them heavily creased. Her green eyes were fixed on something on the floor and they hadn't shifted from that spot since the bell over the door had tinkled. Her canine tooth was biting down onto her bottom lip, the area around her tooth red from the pressure. She let out a deep sigh and ran her fingers through the loose end of her ponytail. It was then that her green eyes shifted from the floor and upward. The expression on her face changed in an instant from brooding to startled.

"I have to go, there's a customer," she paused. "No. Goodbye."

Theodore watched as she moved to hang up the phone, without removing her finger from the cord. When she moved to turn back around, the phone was yanked from its receiver.

"Bloody hell," she mumbled under her breath as she pulled her finger from the cord's grasp and hung the phone up again.

"Bad day?" he asked her, a soft smirk on his lips as she brushed off the front of her apron.

"You're uncharacteristically cheery. Did you find someone else to make you your coffee?" she questioned.

"No," he replied as he leaned on the counter. He gestured in an almost nonchalant manner to the phone. "Bad day?" he repeated again. He found himself very interested in what exactly had made her less than cheerful.

"Coffee black?" she asked, pulling a cup from the rack. Theodore nodded and she moved away from him. "My dad," she told him as she grabbed a filter. "My future stepmother has requested that I be a 'junior bridesmaid' at their wedding as a sort of bonding experience." She rolled her eyes. "I have no interest."

"Aren't wedding supposed to be every girl's dream?" he asked. She looked at him with narrowed green eyes. "So you don't like her then?" he asked again, moving away from his first question.

The barista sighed and shrugged. "Eh," was his answer as she placed the cup in front of him on the counter.

"Eh?"

"What's got you so curious and cheerful this morning?" she questioned, her elbows on the counter and her chin resting in her hands. Theodore lifted the cup to his lips, the smirk remaining. "Oh, come on, do tell." Olivia narrowed her eyes. "You meet a girl?" she questioned.

The wizard almost spit his coffee on the muggle in front of him. "Pardon?" he sputtered as he lowered the cup from his lips.

She laughed. "Alright, it's not that. What then?" Theodore hesitated, shifting his eyes away from her. "Oh, now, you've pried into my phone call."

"If you must know," he started.

"I must."

"I received a letter from an old friend." He was careful with his words, not wanting to let on too much.

"An old girlfriend?"

He looked at her through his icy eyes. "Why does it always have to be about a girl?"

She shrugged, holding her hands up in mock surrender. "You're right. It doesn't," she told him with a smile. "So just an old friend? Catching up?"

"Catching up," he echoed.

"That's good," she said with the definite nod, her ponytail bobbing behind her. "I was starting to think I was the only friend you had."

Theodore looked at her from behind his coffee cup. Friend? That wasn't the first time someone had used that word to describe their, for lack of better word, relationship. First, her friend on the beach. Then the piano lady. Now her. Were they friends? They talked; shared interests. They were often in the same place together, one could define that as 'hanging out'. Friends? Had he become friends with this muggle barista?

Salazar's soul.

If he looked at it that way…. yes. He had.

"Theodore?"

He cleared his throat. "No, I have other friends," he said. He watched her through his icy eyes as she watched him. "So this bridesmaid thing," he said, pushing the topic again. Really, he just wanted to get the conversation off of him. She frowned. "You get to hold flowers and wear a dress, what's the problem?"

"I don't want to hold flowers and wear the dress that she's picked out," the barista answered. "I also don't know her. She's just the fiancée of my father."

"What's her name?" he asked.

"Kaitlynn," she said. He could tell from the expression on her face that it took everything in her to not spit out the woman's name.

"So, you don't like her."

"I don't _not_ like her. I don't know her to not like her," she said with a shrug. She leaned forward again, her elbows on the counter. "He just showed up with her a few months ago, said they were getting married and that he wanted my 'blessing'." She huffed quietly, her air quotes were dripping with sarcasm. "That's Marcus though; impulsive and completely ridiculous."

"Marcus?"

"My father's name," she said with a shrug. "Marcus Reynolds."

"Olivia Reynolds?" Theodore said. It wasn't until after he'd said it that he realized that he was testing it, trying it out.

"At your service," she said, saluting him playfully.

"Well, Ms. Reynolds," he started. For some reason, he felt more comfortable calling her by her last name. He'd often called his acquaintances at school by their last names. This was comfortable. "What will you do?"

She rolled her eyes and sighed. Pushing off the counter again, she grabbed the pot of coffee and topped off his drink. "I'm a nice person, as you very well know," she gestured to the cup she'd just filled, and Theodore nodded in acknowledgment. "Needless to say, I'll do it and be miserable the entire time" she sighed again. "Kindness is my curse," she told him.

"I see," he mused.

"Really though, enough about me," she said waving her hands in front of her face. "You have to tell me more about your letter if you're going to poke around my irritation about the wedding."

"There's nothing more to say," he said, a certain level of tenseness slipping into his tone. "An old friend wrote me a letter."

"About?" she pushed.

He sighed, looking at her expectant green eyes. He really shouldn't have told her anything about the letter. However, having the letter had put him in such a pleasant mood that he'd easily struck up a conversation with the barista. "He just sent an update about home and everyone is," he shrugged, "as expected."

"Other friends?"

He pulled a face at her. "I have friends, Olivia."

She shrugged. "Where are your friends in Blackpool?" He rolled his eyes and looked away from her and she laughed. "I rest my case. It's okay." Her green eyes turned to him. "You seem to be the type of person that takes the time to get to know people and making the best decision on people that you surround yourself with. So, I'm quite happy to be your only friend in Blackpool."

Theodore opened his mouth to counter her statement, but he couldn't. She was right. He'd always taken his time to get to know people before allowing them into his inner circle, and while she wasn't in his inner circle, she was the person closest to him in Blackpool as well as the only muggle that he had ever spent any time talking with. Without even thinking, he reached across the counter and flicked her forehead, "Don't let it go to your head."

What was he doing? Initiating contact with a muggle? That was so unlike him. Back in London, he would have never _touched_ a muggle. At school, he made sure to only surround himself with those of equal blood purity. Pansy Parkinson, while she tended to be very annoying, could trace her blood, her pureblood, back for generations. He stayed as far away from the mudbloods as possible. Now, here he was, initiating contact and conversation with a muggle.

Merlin, what was happening?

Olivia's green eyes feel on him as she brought her hand to her forehead and rubbed it. "Ow."

Theo brushed it off with a gesture of his hand. He placed the now empty coffee cup on the counter and reached into his pocket to pay. As he did, the bell over the door jingled.

"Hey, Liv," a boy said. Theodore looked over his shoulder briefly to see a lanky boy.

"Jimmy," she greeted.

"I am here to relieve you from your shift," he told her as he walked behind the counter and grabbed an apron as Olivia moved to put hers away.

"You're a gem," she told Jimmy. "The usual amount, Theodore," she told him as she pushed her arms into the sleeve of her jacket. Theodore placed the money on the counter as she walked towards the door. "What are you doing now?" she asked him.

"I'm heading home."

Olivia pushed the door open and gestured for him to follow her. "I also live around here. I'll walk with you until we split?" Her green eyes were eager again. He didn't have a reason to tell her no. He pushed away from the counter and walked towards her, hands in his pockets. He stepped into the afternoon air, wind blowing. She tucked her hands into her pockets and looked up at him. "Ready?" He nodded in response. "That way?" she questioned, pointing up the road.

"Yeah."

"Right, let's go then."

They were quiet for a few steps, as she ducked her head down to hide her face from a gust of wind. When she looked up, her cheeks had gained a pinkish color. "Will this friend be coming to Blackpool?" she asked.

His eyebrow arched slightly. "Still on about the letter are you? Doubtful that he will come here." Theodore tried to envision Blaise in the sleepy town of Blackpool, but he couldn't there was some sort of mental block on the image. "It doesn't really suit him here."

"I see," she mused, ducking her head as the wind blew again. "When you first got here, I thought the same about you."

Her comment caught him off guard. "Pardon?"

She shrugged, "You just, seemed out of place. Like you were from," she laughed, "you'll think it's silly, but like you were from a different world."

Theodore tripped over his own feet as she spoke. A different world? She'd known he was different from the start? She glanced over her shoulder and saw that he had all but stopped walking.

"You alright?"

"A different world?" he said slowly, pushing her to tell him more.

Her cheeks flushed and he couldn't tell if it was because of the wind blowing on her face or because she was embarrassed. "I," she laughed, "it's like you were just transplanted here. You know what's going on here, but you just keep to yourself. I thought that you didn't like me at first," she told him. Her fingers had started to twist in her hair. Had he ever seen her nervous before? "You were, to quote Miss. Jane Austen, barely tolerable," she gave him a half smile and he realized that he had missed something. A joke he should have gotten. "Like that, you're well read, I assume, but you haven't read the classics. _The Great Gatsby, Lord of the Flies, Pride and Prejudice_ , all staples of literature. You just," she shrugged, "just, don't seem to be of this world."

Her knowledge of him seeming out of place… Did that mean that she… Did she know there were other worlds? Places where the books she showed him didn't exist?

He watched her through his icy eyes as she rocked back and forth on her heels.

"Okay, say something," she said before biting her lip. "Something like, 'don't be silly' or 'I lived with parents that didn't approve of books' or something."

Theodore bit his lips as he continued to watch her. She had never been a difficult person to read, if he were being honest. The barista's emotions tended to run across her face or show in her eyes before she could even voice them. However, he had never thought to read her for this; knowledge of different worlds. She didn't seem to have any deeper meaning in her words. She never seemed to have any knowledge of anything other than her world, her _muggle_ world.

Something inside of him was thrilled by the thought that there might be someone else here like him. Someone else that knew of magic. Suddenly he didn't feel so empty. So alone. But, her? No. He was too hasty in getting his hopes up.

"Cornelius Fudge," he said suddenly. Testing her. The quizzical expression in her green eyes showed her grade: _Troll_. He frowned looking away from her. He was wrong.

"I'm sorry?"

"Nothing," he said quickly waving it away. "The name of a friend."

"The one who wrote to you?"

The wizard let out a huff of air. "Sure."

She smiled and nudged him with her shoulder. "May I ask a question?" He shrugged, partially to answer her question and partially to get her shoulder off his arm. She seemed unfazed by the latter. "Speaking of books, what do you read?"

"Pardon?"

Before she could reply several children surrounded them, weaving between them and brushing against them. Olivia looked down at them, aware of every movement that they made. She stumbled as she tried to shift her weight from one foot to another. Her foot couldn't make it to the ground to steady her. Without a thought, Theodore pulled his hand from his pocket and grabbed her wrist, pulling her upright. As soon as she was steady, he released her wrist and tucked his hand into his pocket again.

"Thanks," she said with a lopsided smile as she rubbed the back of her neck.

In his pocket, he clenched and unclenched his hand, hoping that this action would rid his hand of that tingling sensation. "Yeah."

They started to walk again. Theodore leaving a little more space between them.

"Books?"

"Right. What?"

"The books that you read."

He frowned. "Books about magic." They had books about magic in this world. That wasn't too out of place. She frowned. "What?"

"Magic? Like what? King Arthur and Merlin?" she giggled.

"Merlin, yes."

She stopped laughing at the seriousness in his tone and tilted her head to the side. "You don't strike me as the type." She stopped and looked directly at him. "This is my street." She lived on the street with the elderly couple and their dog. "Bring me something sometime," she said as she turned over her shoulder and started away from him. "They say reading someone favorite book is how you get to know them. You must know me fairly well, Mr. Theodore Nott. It's only fair, right?" Before he could respond, she waved over her shoulder, leaving him standing there looking at her retreating figure.

* * *

 **A/N:** IT'S SUMMER! I finally finished my semester, which means I am free to write and let my muse take over and stay up into the wee hours of the morning with my laptop and Netflix. I'm sure you're as happy as I am, because it means that I can update more often! I decided to come back with a longer chapter because I felt awful for leaving you guys for so long. I hope you enjoyed it. So, Theo's on the spot now. What will he do? No one knows; not even the writer. Also the letter from Blaise? Will there be Blaise in Blackpool? Will Blaise write again? Leave reviews, let me know your thoughts. Don't hate me for disappearing.

 **~ Nikki**


	12. Chapter 12

" _Bring me something sometime."_

Her voice echoed in his head as he lounged in his office chair with the letter from Blaise in his hands. He'd been reading over it constantly, trying to find something else in the letter. Something written between the lines, something unwritten, anything. Sighing, he placed the letter back in the drawer, under a pile of paperwork with his signature scrawled on it, the paperwork from buying the house, and closed the drawer tight.

" _They say reading someone favorite book is how you get to know them."_

Her voice continued to echo in his thoughts. Soft and bubbly. Her voice. He had never given it much thought. It was her voice. The voice that greeted him at the Corner Café when he entered. It was just her voice. Now that it was echoing in his head, _again_ , he could hear how it matched her. She was bubbly and so was her voice. Light and flowy. Playing in his ears. It fit her well.

His eyes fell on the bookshelf in the office. The shelves were lined with books of this _different world_ she'd playfully accused him of being from. While the books here were a mere portion of his collection back in London, there were still plenty. Their colorful spines faced him, some were slightly worn, others had heavy creases in them from late nights of reading them.

" _Bring me something sometime."_

He rolled his eyes and snorted. As if. As if he could just walk over to the shelf, pick a book, and hand it to her at the café. As if he could do all of that like it was normal. It wouldn't be normal. She'd see the title and lift one of her thin, copper eyebrows in question. He would say, "just read it". She would. She'd read it and be horrified. She'd read it and talk to someone, she'd tell someone. And then that would be it. Word would get out and the Ministry would come for him.

Muggles were all the same.

Magic freaked them out.

Two days later, Theodore found himself perched on the ledge of his desk, looking at the books again. His fingers curled around the edge of the desk as his eyes moved over the titles. There were books on dragons, their breeding, Quidditch. He stretched his legs out, crossing them at the ankles.

 _A History of Magic_.

He snorted. That would not be the book to give her.

Theodore inhaled sharply through his nose and pushed off the desk before leaving the room, closing the door behind him. He had done that exact thing, three times in just one day. He'd find himself in the office looking at the book titles, her bubbly voice playing in his head. _Bring me something sometime._ He'd been thinking about it; about giving her pass to his world. Then as suddenly as the thought would come to mind, it would be countered by the rational side.

She was a muggle.

She had no reason to know of magic.

* * *

When he walked in, she had that crease in her forehead again. The crease that she'd had when she was on the phone with her father. This time, she wasn't on the phone, she was standing at the counter, wiping it down with a rag while a man stood on the other side speaking to her. The longer the man stood there, the more aggressive the wiping of the rag became and the crease in her forehead deepened. He wasn't close enough to them to hear what they were saying, but from the fact that her face was slowly turning a shade of red he could only describe as Weasley red, he doubted it was good. So, he stood, lingering in the doorway.

Her green eyes flicked upwards, and briefly, the crease in her forehead lessened. "Coffee, black, or Earl Grey?" she asked in her usual way of greeting. Her tone caught him off guard. It wasn't the bubbly tone that had been in his head, it was clipped and short.

"Er," he stuttered, "the tea."

"Great, have a seat." Her tone still the same.

He moved slowly to his usual seat, watching her reflection in the glass of the window. She'd left the rag on the counter, something he had never seen her do before. Even her movements were angry. She jerked the cup off the rack and all but slammed the item on the counter. The man at the counter stood, watching her. Theodore's eyes followed her as she stalked to the table. He'd expected her to slam the dish down, but she placed it on the table with her usual grace and lightness, before she stalked away.

"Olivia," the man said, leaning on the counter. She wiped at his hands with the rag, making him move. Theodore chuckled under his breath. She was vicious when she wanted to be. "Olivia, be reasonable."

"I am." Her tone still clipped. "I'm at work; do we have to do this now?"

"I've been trying to contact you for two days, Olivia," he told her. Something about the look in the barista's face said that he was telling her information that she was completely aware of. "You could handle this with more maturity." She scoffed. "I'm serious, Olivia." The way he said her name, booming voice holding on to the 'o' and rushing the rest into one syllable. Almost sounded…

"Dad." Her tone was completely exasperated.

Parental.

Theodore's eyebrow arched. Her father? He turned in his seat to look at the man. He was a burly man with dark hair. Nothing like her slender build and copper hair. She must have favored her mother. His face was more ovular, hers was a heart shape. His small brown eyes compared to her large green ones. His voice gruff and scratchy. Hers, the exception being now, bubbly and light. She must have heavily favored her mother. Heavily.

"If you were more mature, Olivia." She rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically. He had to agree with the man when she did that, she was acting a bit like a first year.

"I cannot do this, there's a customer," she gestured to Theodore, who had perfectly timed drinking his tea, so to look inconspicuous.

Her father reached across the counter and took her wrist in his large hand. It wasn't an aggressive action; something he'd seen countless muggle parents do on the platform to catch their child's attention. However, she didn't seem to want to be touched by him as she attempted to pull away.

"Olivia," Theodore said. He startled the three of them. He hadn't thought about saying her name before he'd said it, it had just slipped through his lips. Her green eyes fell on him and her father turned to look at him. Her father removed his hand from hers. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," she answered. "My father was just leaving."

"Marcus Reynolds," he introduced, as he turned away from Olivia.

"Theodore Nott."

"Friend of hers?"

There it was again. That word. _Friend._ "Yes." His answer surprised her, he could tell by the way her eyes widened momentarily before she turned her gaze towards her father again.

"Perhaps you can talk her into acting reasonably and meeting me for dinner," he said. "At six," he aimed this at Olivia. He turned and headed towards the door. "Pleasure, Mr. Nott."

As he was walking out of the door, Olivia was walking around the counter. Their gait was similar. He looked over his shoulder at her once more before leaving with the tinkle of the bell.

Before Theodore could even address her, she was sitting at the table by the window with her forehead pressed to its surface and she was letting out a very deep, very long sigh. He watched her for a moment. Her slightly pointed ears, peeking from under her copper-toned hair. When she lifted her head, her face was still Weasley red, but the crease in her forehead was gone and the tension and hardness had melted from her eyes.

"So that was Marcus Reynolds," Theodore said, bringing the cup of tea to his lips. "He's a bit burlier than I expected and more brunette."

She chuckled in a huff. "That was Marcus Reynolds in all of his burly, brunette glory," she confirmed.

"If you don't mind me asking," he started.

"I'm sure I will," she said.

Theodore pretended not to hear her. "Why not get dinner with the man?"

Another long and deep sigh was expelled from her lips. "He's here to talk about the wedding and the dress and how I should attend the wedding in the dress as a member of the bridal party." Olivia made a face, one that reminded him of a first year again; her nose scrunched and her the corner of her lip had curled up. "I just don't want to."

"Why?"

"You're not listening. The wedding and the dress," she said slowly. "That's what he wants to talk about."

"Yes, I heard you."

She sighed. "Will you allow me a moment to be a bratty child of divorce?" Theodore made a gesture that said that he would allow her that moment. "So, he never talks to me about me, he talks about the wedding and before that he talked about dating his now fiancée, and before that, he talked about work, he works at a paper mill. I usually talk about work. We don't really talk about anything of importance. Before they got engaged, I saw him maybe every other month but then they got engaged and I'm sure that she said something because now I see him once a month, sometimes twice." She gave a sort of half smile. "That's what I was doing in Preston that day I saw you when you almost stepped in front of a biker." She shot him a playfully pointed look, that he pretended he did not see. "Anyway, point is, he doesn't know me and I don't know him because we talk about nothing. About paper mills and coffee."

"Maybe, and just hear me out. Maybe he thinks you don't want to talk to him about anything but coffee and paper, considering," he waved his hand over his shoulder, gesturing to the space where he had seen them interact. "You're not very nice to him. I was unaware that you could be so vicious. It was quite amusing."

She gave a bow of her head, "Glad to have entertained you."

"Perhaps you tell him that."

Theodore had always been a reasonable person. When Draco would spend hours ranting and pacing the common room about 'Perfect Potter', he'd lazily listen to the blond boy with his arms crossed over his chest or a book in his lap. Then, when he had finished Theodore would sigh and say something rational. "You can't actually kill him, Malfoy" or "It's possible he's a better seeker than you are". He'd just been more reasonable than the hot-tempered Draco. That was why the three of them, Blaise included, made a good team. Draco needed two people to be reasonable with him. Two people to talk him off the ledges that they all knew that he wouldn't dare to step off.

"Maybe you tell him that you want to talk about more than coffee and paper." Olivia rolled her eyes at him. "Maybe you add tea into the equation." She reached over at hit his arm. "Tell him you want to talk."

Olivia sat looking at him through her green eyes. He couldn't tell if she was curious or amused. Her head was tilted to the side, slightly, and her eyebrow was lifted. "You saying that be he asked you to?"

Theodore shrugged and brought his cup of tea to his lips, not offering her an answer.

She leaned forward, her elbows on the table. "I'll bargain with you." Theodore's eyebrow arched. "Amanda, my friend, is out of town and I talk to her about these things, you know "Manda, dad was a jerk" kind of calls. So, I can't possibly go knowing that I have no support. So, if you leave me your number and promise that you will answer so I can tell you how horrible it went, then I will go."

Theodore's icy eyes fell on her. Her head still tilted to the side and that mischievous lopsided grin on her lips that made her look almost… He looked away from her, upward, and then back at her. Her green eyes were playful as she stood up and moved away from the table.

Leave her his number.

Merlin.

What had he gotten into with this girl?

When he left, which was only a short time later, he left her money on the table and didn't say a word.

* * *

 _Ring. Ring._

The sound echoed through the still air of the house. Startled, his icy eyes shifted towards the kitchen, where the phone was. Then they fell on the analog clock on the wall. _10:24_ it read.

 _Ring. Ring._

He continued to eye the kitchen skeptically. The phone never rang at his home. The phone never rang because he never gave his… Theodore sighed deeply, closing the book without marking his place and moving towards the telephone that was ringing shrilly on the wall. He eyed it hesitantly, before reaching out to it.

"Hello?" he said after a moment of trying to remember how this worked.

"Theodore?"

Her bubbly voice floated through the phone lines and unknowingly the corners of his lips turned upward subtly.

"Olivia," he greeted.

"You know," she started, "you know, I dislike that you were right."

He could hear her rustling on her side of the line. "Do you?" he questioned.

"Yes, I do." Something hit the ground, followed by a sound that was the exact same as the first. "I truly do."

"I would apologize, but I don't feel the need to do so," he mused.

It dawned on him how easy this conversation was happening. It was odd. He had never been on the telephone in conversation before. In Muggle Studies, they had practiced which way to hold the phone, seeing as both sides were the same. However, they never talked on it. He'd remembered not to shout on the phone; just because they were not in the same room didn't mean that shouting was necessary, speaking in a normal volume would do. They could even hear if you whispered. Oh, if Draco could see him now. A wizard of pureblood, chatting on a muggle device, with a muggle.

"I hate to give you the satisfaction of being correct," she continued. "So, I'll say that he did initially summon me there to talk about the wedding."

"And?"

She sighed and he could practically see her rolling her eyes. "Kindness is my curse," she said as a way of answering him. She'd let him talk her into the wedding. "But, we didn't talk about paper or coffee or his fiancée. We talked about piano, which he,"

"Wants you to play at the wedding," Theodore finished for her, surprised that he knew what she was going to say.

Surprise was in her voice when she replied as well. "Yeah. He does. But you know, it's a start?"

"It would seem that way," he answered.

"Uh, he said to tell my 'friend from work thank you for convincing my Liv to come out tonight'," she told him.

Theodore was quiet for a moment as he listened to the sound of the clock's hands ticking around its face. "Did I convince you to go?" he questioned.

She made a squeaking non-committal sound on her end of the line. "Yes and no."

"Yes and no? You're being very vague, Ms. Reynolds."

A light peal of laughter drifted through the phone. "Yes and no," she repeated. "I'm sorry if that's a vague answer, but that's the answer I have."

"No clarification?"

"There is none," she replied.

The line went quiet. He could make out the sound of her quiet breathing, a slow inhale and slower exhale. Another slow inhale and a slow exhale. In and out through her nose. He cleared his throat, finding that his breathing had slowed to match her pace.

"Right," she said suddenly, her voice loud after the silence. "I should let you go."

"Alright,' he agreed.

"Right," she repeated. "Uh, will I see you tomorrow?"

Her question was unexpected and caught him off guard. "Possibly."

"Earl grey or coffee, black?"

"Coffee, black," he told her after a few moments of consideration.

"I look forward to serving you," she laughed. 'Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

She hung up the phone with a soft _click_. But he remained, the phone's receiver still pressed to his ear and his breathing still in her set tempo.

* * *

 **A/N:** So this semester of graduate school has been horrible. Just horrible. So needless to say, I haven't been able to write anything at all. However, I turned in my last course paper today and I finished off this chapter to get to you all. I still have my brainstorming sheet and I've been writing down ideas as they come to me, so I have a really good direction of where I want this to go.

Really what I am trying to say is that I am so sorry for disappearing and I hope to make it up to you with this chapter and the following ones!

 **~ Nikki**


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